


First time craving

by Asthenos, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Angst, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael abuse - not caused by Jason, Mpreg, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 76,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Asthenos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: After a long period of laying low, Jason’s territory is disturbed once again by law enforcement officials who are looking for a new killer at Crystal Lake. At first, Jason wants nothing more than to destroy the intruder. That is, until he gets a taste of him.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Jason Voorhees
Comments: 260
Kudos: 435





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is being written as a gift fic for a very good friend who has gotten me hooked on Jason/Michael. Michael is being based on Halloween I and II, while Jason’s characterization is including anything prior to him being resurrected as a member of the undead. The rest will stray into AU territory.

Venturing out into the ‘civilized world’ was like forcing himself to rejoin the living, and Jason hated the concept of participating in that sick world. Regular people - as they liked to think of themselves - were dysfunctional, copycat clones. Always moving about in small herds, playing follow-the-leader with whatever reject decided to accept the designation and fill the role. They were nothing more than cattle, being told what to think and how to act. It was because of how disdainfully Jason looked down upon those mindless sheep that he was able to walk around like he had blinders on. At least most of the time. Should he find any of them intruding on _his_ territory, it would become another matter entirely.

“You got anything smaller than a ten?”

No, Jason did not have anything smaller than a ten. In fact, he had nothing other than that ten. That was all he had picked off of the body of the last outsider who trespassed along the border of his private sanctuary.

The muscles in Jason’s neck contracted as he gritted his teeth hard enough to cause his jaw to lock. Coming into town was one thing, being forced to interact with the lower life forms was something very different. Jason did not do speaking. Not because he had suffered irreparable damage to his vocal chords - among other things - but because he found no purpose in the act. Why communicate verbally when he had no desire to do so?

Feeling somewhat naked and exposed without his trusty hockey mask, Jason ducked his head lower to conceal what remained of his face in the shadows of his trucker cap, and the oversized hood that he had pulled up on top of it. For a man of his size and stature, that was no easy feat. He easily towered over the pimply faced teenager who was slouching behind the cash register. If the old general store that he had forced himself to enter hadn’t been full of dust, cobwebs and crappy overhead light fixtures with yellowing bulbs, Jason might have found himself in a bit of trouble. Sure, he could have just broken into the store through the back entrance, butchered the man-child in the stockroom, and then helped himself to all the canned beans, stale hamburger buns, and soda that two men could carry. But he tried his best not to draw attention to himself in the middle of the day. Especially not when the local sheriff’s office had put out an APB for anyone wearing a suspicious looking mask.

To avoid the necessity to speak, Jason swatted the scrunched up ten-dollar bill across the counter, causing it to sail off the other end and onto the floor.

“Hey!” The teen whined as he bent down to retrieve it. “I was just asking.”

While the scrawny whelp was busy trying to figure out how much change he was supposed to subtract from the ten, after tax, Jason helped himself to some luxury items from the shelf in front of him. A few packs of chewing gum, mints, chocolate covered almonds... Things that he had deprived himself of for a very long time. Years to be exact. If he was going to put up with making himself visible in a public place, he was going to make the most out of it.

Jason’s gaze flickered up and to the right for a fraction of a second, ensuring that the teen was still hopelessly trying to deduct the grand total of eight dollars and forty-five cents from the ten dollars, before he pocketed some granola bars and beef jerky. His bulky, tattered leather jacket - yet another souvenir from a recent kill - had plenty of pockets. Nice and deep for shoplifting, or for storing trophy pieces that were small enough to fit in them.

As Jason was patiently waiting for his change, a blur of movement at the back of the shop caught his attention. Dressed in dark grey mechanic’s coveralls, the figure glided up and down the aisles, only appearing in a flash of material here and there as he ripped off various items from the tools section. If Jason did not make it his business to be totally aware of his surroundings at all times, he might not have noticed the anomaly that seemed a bit too fast to be a normal man. But if not a man, then what?

“You gave me ten, so I give you back... uh... two? I don’t have fifty cents so I’ll have to owe you.”

Jason would have rolled his eyes, if the defunct muscles surrounding them had still been functioning. This was about all the socializing that he could handle after having kept to himself for so long. Before his mother had passed on, she had been decent enough to teach him basic arithmetics. Because what idiot couldn’t calculate ten minus eight point four-five? If it hadn’t been for the manhunt taking place at Camp Crystal Lake - Jason’s favorite haunt and resting place - he would have been at home preparing a nice rabbit or juicy fish for dinner. However, thanks to whatever imbecile had decided to go around mimicking Jason’s M.O. in a mini massacre down by the lake, Jason was given no choice but to come out of hiding in order to obtain sustenance.

_Is that a mask?_

Jason briefly glimpsed a patch of white covering the male figure’s face, before both the man and the mask vanished from view.

 _That_ was the man who had screwed Jason out of his roasted rabbit and chestnut stew. It had to be! He fit the description of the character that the police were looking for. Significantly shorter than Jason, much leaner where Jason was muscular, and packing a kitchen knife. The discolored wooden handle of that knife was sticking out of a back pocket, easily accessible and completely obvious. Thankfully the man was like a ghostly apparition, moving unnaturally fast and with an agility that wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention.

_Good, let him go unnoticed - for now._

Jason would wait until they were outside and far from any witnesses before he bludgeoned the imposter for drawing Camp Crystal Lake into the spotlight of law enforcers once again.

Not bothering to wait for his change, Jason yanked the paper shopping bag that contained his dinner off of the counter. Then, leaving the flustered teen behind, Jason shot out the back exit in search of the eerie grey ghost with the white face.


	2. Chapter 2

Off into the woods Jason went in pursuit of his prey. The masked man was moving at quite a clip, effortlessly weaving in and out of areas thick with trees and buggy bushes. But he was no longer making any attempt to remain invisible. His smaller footprints were tearing up just as much terrain as Jason’s own. The imprints revealed that this man was wearing heavy work boots similar to Jason’s. Hell, his gait was even similar to Jason’s. He moved with a long stride, wasting no time in moving forward or straying from the direct path he was on.

The more Jason thought about it, the more he wanted to torture and kill this wannabe serial killer. Destroy him for making a mockery of all that Jason stood for and believed in. Tear him apart for having the nerve to —.

_Whump_!

Jason was so shocked at the sudden impact his back made with the tree trunk that he had no time to consider the heel that had kicked him in the gut. His head was still reeling when the charcoal grey figure sprang forward and brought that wickedly sharp knife down into the tough muscle of his left shoulder. It should have hurt. It definitely would have hurt any normal human being, but Jason was not one of those. He had been stabbed and struck by hard objects so many times that his pain threshold was abnormally high, or his body had naturally become desensitized to the violence over time. Whatever the reason, Jason had no trouble gripping the handle of the knife with his opposite hand and pulling it free from the flesh it had become imbedded in. He didn’t even cringe at the gush of blood that spilled forth from the wound, or the gaping hole that it left behind.

The next attack, Jason was prepared for. He easily blocked the clawed hand that shot out to choke him by the throat. And he caught the man’s other hand, which tried to gouge out his eyes, by the wrist. It wasn’t a thin wrist, but it wasn’t as thick as Jason’s either. In fact, Jason could snap that fragile bone with relative ease, if he chose to do so. And he would have _if_ he hadn’t looked into his assailant’s eyes. They were big dark eyes, so full of emotion that they were like a churning abyss, but they stood out in the middle of that smooth white mask that coated his face and made it seem expressionless. It was not at all like Jason’s hockey mask. It was not being used as protection but as a means of shielding the man’s identity, and his humanity along with it. Perhaps it was made of latex or a similar stretchy material, but it served no practical purpose other than to guard the man’s anonymity.

While Jason was distracted with the mystery that were the man’s dark eyes, he nearly paid for it with a broken kneecap. He pivoted to the side just in time to avoid the heavy heel that the man brought down in the place where his right knee had been. This _creature_ was much more lethal than Jason had originally given him credit for. This was no mere copycat killer that Jason was dealing with. No, this was a dangerous animal that had just found itself ensnared in the very trap that it had attempted to spring on someone else.

Not taking anymore chances with the dark creature in his grasp, Jason grasped a fistful of the sleek chocolate brown hair that was curved neatly at the nape of the man’s neck and yanked - hard. He watched the creature’s mouth open in surprise, followed by a gasp of pain. So, the little demon could be hurt. Good.

Tugging the man’s head back further, Jason kept him still while he twisted that captive arm behind his opponent’s back. He watched with detached amusement as the fingers on that hand stiffened and then began to spasm with pain. It would be quite simple for Jason to now dismantle his prey limb by broken limb.

Once more, Jason was caught off guard by the cloud of dirt that the demon kicked up as he dug his heels into the ground and struggled with all his might. He reminded Jason of how the particularly spirited rabbits frantically twisted around in the traps that he set out for them. Some became so desperate to free themselves that they tried to gnaw off their own legs. Jason had no doubt that this little hellion would do the same if put into such a position.

It was comfortably dark inside the safe net of trees that blocked out the fading evening light. Although Jason was still intrigued with what he had seen in those disturbed eyes, he had a reputation to preserve. He couldn’t allow some upstart - fellow serial killer or not - disrespect him on his own turf. He was going to teach this little prick some manners _before_ he maimed and killed him.

Dragging his captive away from the trees and into a clearing, Jason grasped the sloppily cut off bottom of the mask that made it seem like the demon’s throat had been slit. Then, without warning, he ripped the mask off of the demon and pulled him close to his face. His intention had been to scare the hell out of his opponent before gutting him. Anyone who got a good look at Jason’s unmasked face usually ended up screaming like they were about to be devoured by the devil himself. To say that Jason was scarred would have been an understatement. Jason had heard people refer to him as grotesque, ghastly, disgusting, and too wretched to be allowed to live. So, he was not only used to people recoiling from him in terror and revulsion, but he delighted in their reaction to him. His appearance alone had a power over the weak humans that he used to his advantage. This little demon would soon be howling for mercy like all the rest.

Except... he didn’t.

Instead, those dark eyes widened for a moment, before the man tentatively reached out with one hand to touch Jason’s face.

The touch was more than enough to floor Jason, but the sight of what he had in his grasp did far more than that. This creature - this young man - was extraordinary. He was unlike anything that Jason had ever seen in his tormented existence. Whereas the man’s eyes were unyielding black, even in the last rays of sunlight, his face was pale white. Almost like porcelain it was so smooth and bloodless. It was less like a man’s face and more like a pretty doll’s. If they made dolls of young men who ran around in blood stained jumpsuits murdering off random people in small towns.

Just as suddenly as the hand made contact with Jason’s ruined cheek, it pulled away in a full body movement of denial. The creature’s entire lean upper body twisted away and tried to take its hand with it. But Jason didn’t want to lose that touch - that one gesture of human contact that hadn’t been meant to damage or destroy him.

“—pretty—.” The word escaped from between Jason’s improperly healed lips before he could stop it. He wasn’t even sure of what he was saying or why. This was the first time that he had said anything since ... _that incident._ Pretty? Was that what he really thought of this man? Was such a word appropriate for a man? Jason really didn’t know, nor did he care. He only acted instinctively, wrapping one arm around the man’s waist and pulling him tightly up against his solid body. He no longer wanted to kill this man. That was not how he would reward the gentle touch that had restored some semblance of compassion within him. His mother had used to touch him without hatred or malice and, while the way the man’s hand had grazed his face was somewhat different, Jason found himself desiring more.

When the man just stared at him in blank confusion, not knowing how to react to this sudden development in their twisted first encounter, Jason eased up on the wrist that he had been crushing. Instead, he pulled that hand up against his cheek again, relishing the feeling of the softer flesh against his mangled face. Again, he was both puzzled and pleased at the man’s curious expression. There was a bit of a frown to those pink lips, but it contained no displeasure. It seemed to be more of a practiced expression than anything else.

“You’re not... frightened?” It took a great amount of effort for Jason to voice the words aloud. He had forgotten how to move his lips properly to pronounce the words, and it didn’t help that they were no longer as flexible as they once had been.

A long silence followed. Then, slowly, the dark eyes narrowed at him. “Of what?”

Jason felt a strange tingle in his belly at the velvety voice that impudently challenged him. “Of me,” he clarified. This was absurd. Here he was attempting to have a conversation with a man he ought to want dead. A man who was like a beautiful cursed killing doll. In all the years that Jason had been removing horny teenagers from his campgrounds, he had never found any of them attractive. He had come across both males and females copulating in various positions and states of undress, but none of them had triggered the reaction that he was now experiencing in his work pants.

“What is there to be afraid of?” The haughty voice demanded to know, just as the man’s palm began to stroke Jason’s cheek in an explorative manner.

Well, wasn’t that bizarre? This wild creature seemed to be just as attracted to Jason as Jason was to him. It was insane and foolish, like an unbelievable real life beauty and the beast tale. However, there was no denying that the attraction was mutual.

Jason raised his hand to return the touch, only to have the creature jerk away in suspicion. “There is nothing... to be afraid of,” Jason reaffirmed the man’s cheeky response. He kept his hand still, waiting until the lean body in his grasp loosened up from its stiff pose before trying to make contact again. Then, those dark eyes followed his hand until it got too close to focus on. And that’s when Jason pressed his leathered palm against the man’s cheek, cupping it. He almost sighed, it felt so good. Not only the exchange of physical caresses, but their proximity as well. The other man was giving off heat - the warmth that he had worked up while attacking Jason. It was nice to hold him close and share that heat. “My name... is Jason,” he intoned, repeating the introduction that he had learned in grade school. He thought it only proper that he introduce himself before he went any further with the touching. And there was no question in his mind that he longed to do a lot more than touch this man.

The man’s eyes fluttered shut in a half blink, but his face remained impassive. That was probably his way of accepting the offered introduction without returning it.

Running his tongue along his lips to moisten them and hopefully get them to move a bit more cooperatively, Jason tried asking a question. “What is your name?”

The frown deepened, pursed, returned to a neutral state, and then frowned again. Well, it was nice to know that Jason was not the only screwed up person on the planet. This young man was as antisocial as they came, which was fine. If normal things had turned Jason on, he would have gone hunting for an unwilling town bride long ago. _This_ was what Jason had been craving. Something wild and beautiful to tame, or die trying.

“Michael.”

The name was spoken so softly that Jason thought that he had imagined hearing it at first. Then, realizing that his prey had spoken, Jason smiled. The gesture hurt his face like nothing else had in his recent memory. Smiling was not something that he ever did and so his facial muscles were untrained for it. “Michael,” he repeated, lost deep in thought. He had unexpectedly fallen for a beautiful psychopath with an angelic face and matching eyes that were just waiting to damn him. Jason could not have been happier.


	3. Chapter 3

For all the weight in his pockets, Michael moved gracefully and without a sound. In the one pocket, there was a hammer and a screwdriver. In the opposite pocket, there was a small packet of nails and a box cutter with a set of refills. He hadn’t quite finished his unattended shopping spree at the time Jason spotted him. He had opted to make himself scarce before the big mute at the cash register reported his actions. As it turned out, he needn’t have bothered because Jason also suffered from klepto tendencies.

“Are you hungry?”

Michael stared at the granola bar that Jason held out to him for a few heartbeats. Usually Michael considered himself to be a pretty observant person, and he was absolutely certain that he hadn’t seen Jason pay for that purchase. That was one more thing that they had in common - five finger discounts.

“It’s got raisins and chocolate chips.”

That made no sense to Michael. Raisins and chocolate chips were not supposed to go together. And why not? Because Dr. Loomis had hated that particular combination. Occasionally the good doctor had bitched about one thing or another while he assumed that Michael was too drugged up to follow what he was saying. It was incredibly unlucky for Michael - and Dr. Loomis - that the constant medicating had forced Michael’s body to build up a tolerance to it. So yes, he remembered about the stupid mismatched raisins and chocolate chips. And he also remembered that his arch nemesis had kinsmen residing around the Crystal Lake community. That’s what had brought Michael so far from his usual killing grounds. He had a grudge to settle and no more Loomis to take it out on, so Loomis’ surviving family members would have to do.

 _Screw Loomis and his chocolate chips_ , Michael thought to himself. Wordlessly, he accepted the granola bar and continued to match Jason’s pace as they marched through the woods in a companionable manner.

At first, Michael had been severely irritated to discover that he was being followed through the woods. On any regular occasion, it took a lot less than that to piss him off and warrant a slashing and stabbing spree that resulted in corpses slaughtered beyond recognition. But, upon seeing the big man’s disfigured face, he had pieced together the reason for the aggressive stalking. This was the supposed Boogieman who lived in or around the woods, terrorizing and murdering off college kids who came down to the lake for a good time. The monster in the hockey mask was something of a legend - or a myth, depending on who you heard it from - around these parts. Michael couldn’t have cared less about all the he said/she said bullshit surrounding Crystal Lake. It had never been his intention to interfere in a kindred spirit’s recreational killing habits. He had simply entered Jason’s territory with the goal of ridding the world of the Loomis line. And in the process of doing so, he had been oblivious to the fact that he was intruding on anything at all. But, as it turned out, that’s what this entire lake and the surrounding area happened to be - Jason’s rightfully claimed land. Had Michael been aware of that in advance, he would have taken Loomis’ two cousins out to the state line to dismantle them. That would have eliminated the need for the sheriff’s department to dispatch a group of deputies on a manhunt to find the person responsible for those deaths. And that, in turn, would have kept Jason’s private sanctuary undisturbed for another long while. Oh well, live and learn.

“You eat it.”

Concentrating on the dry leaves disintegrating beneath the soles of his boots, Michael almost missed what Jason said. Almost. It was impossible not to pay attention when Jason spoke because the man had a powerful voice. Oh, it was very hoarse and sadly out of tune, but that was what made it special. Just like Jason. Never before had Michael encountered a man whose outer shell reflected the actual person inside. There was nothing pretentious or fake about Jason, not like the various despicable people that Michael had had the misfortune of becoming acquainted with earlier on in life. With Jason, what you saw was what you got. He was stunning - a fearless warrior who could have broken Michael in half had he chosen to do so. Not that Michael was afraid of a little pain and a good challenge. But Jason had held back from harming him, even after Michael had drawn first blood. And the reason for Jason’s reluctance to do him everlasting physical damage had been a strange one. He had called Michael ‘pretty’. Pretty was not a word that anyone had ever used to refer to Michael in the past, so he was still mulling over its significance. What did it mean when someone called you pretty? While Michael thought Jason was magnificent and alluring, he would never dream of voicing his thoughts aloud.

 _Pretty_...

Dullard. Freak. Zombie. Dead eyes. Those were the names that people usually called Michael, at least while he had been institutionalized. He could only imagine what the general public had begun to call him _after_ he had escaped from his prison and started to hone his hunting skills.

The sensation of something brushing against the back of his left hand caused Michael to whip out the screwdriver from his right pocket, striking out mechanically at the offending object. But he found his wrist snatched tightly by one of those big hands that had held him at bay earlier on. It forced his arm down and kept him still until he returned to his senses.

“The granola bar. It’s melting.”

Michael stared at the rough and battered hand holding his wrist, and then shifted his gaze to the granola bar that he had squashed into a melted mess in his left hand. Finally, he looked up at Jason. For a man who valued his privacy and quiet solitude, he sure did speak a lot. Or perhaps Michael just thought that because nobody had spoken to him in a very long time. Not unless they were pleading for their lives, and Michael couldn’t be bothered with listening to that kind of useless noise.

“Oh.” Not knowing what was expected of him now that he had ruined the food that had been given to him, Michael passed the granola bar back to Jason.

Jason’s face remained impassive as he took the compact lump that Michael had turned the snack into. He calmly jammed it back into his pocket, kicked a bunch of twigs and leaves in one direction, clearing a fairly large spot, and then he sat down. When Michael stared blankly at him, not knowing what was supposed to happen next, Jason gestured to the space beside him.

“Sit.”

So Michael sat. His eyes tracked across the small space they were sitting in, through the faraway trees, and then up to the starlit sky. They hadn’t been followed by the group of deputies who were still scouring the perimeter of the lake and outer areas of the land. Michael wouldn’t have minded disposing of them as a matter of convenience, but something told him that Jason might not be too pleased with that solution. If Michael understood the situation correctly, Jason was hoping that they would just give up after a while and leave him the hell alone. Killing law enforcers would attract more law enforcers. After that, it wouldn’t take take long before Jason’s sanctuary became a twenty-four hour circus, and nothing would piss Jason off more than an unlimited supply of unwanted visitors. Michael didn’t want to see Jason upset. Why it mattered so much to him, he had no idea. He just knew that he preferred to have Jason’s full attention directed at him.

Although it was pitch black inside the sheltered confines of the woods, both Michael and Jason could see perfectly fine. Whether it was a preternatural ability or the result of years of adaptation to such an environment, Michael was unsure. He was just glad that his companion had no need for flashlights or lanterns because Michael disliked bright, glowing objects that cut through the darkness.

_Snap!_

_Snap!_

Michael glanced sharply to his left side in order to identify the source of that sound. He was mystified to find Jason breaking long thin branches and forming them into a pile a half leg away. Michael did most of his calculations with limbs because that was what he related to the easiest. Once the pile was big enough, Jason began to briskly rub two branches together at the edge of his neat pile.

“That won’t work,” Michael protested, immediately disturbing the comfortable silence that they had fallen into. He couldn’t help himself. He had seen kids and adults alike try to perform this trick on countless occasions. It usually ended with someone pulling out a lighter, or Michael adding a body to the unlit campfire.

To prove Michael wrong, one of Jason’s branches gave off a spark, and then another. A small flame began to glow at the end of that branch, which Jason slowly and carefully lowered into the pile of kindling. A few more crackling sounds followed, before a timid fire began to grow in the center of its spindly cage.

Thinking that the fire would light up his face unnecessarily, Michael patted down his coveralls in search of his mask. _Gone_. Jason had not returned it. Come to think of it, Jason had not given him back his kitchen knife or the screwdriver either. Why the hell hadn’t Michael noticed this before? Had Jason purposely disarmed him, or had he just forgotten to return the items? But why wouldn’t he return the mask?

Wanting nothing more than to retrieve his possessions, Michael grabbed for Jason’s leather jacket. But Jason pulled away and gave him what could have been a stern look.

“No,” Jason said firmly.

No what? No, don’t touch me? Or no, you can’t have it? Michael wasn’t sure how to interpret the word ‘no’ because when someone said it to him it always meant, ‘no, don’t kill me.’

“Pretty,” Jason said as he practically stared Michael down. “No mask.”

Had this man just given him an order? Michael did not take orders. He was about to uncoil and lash out at Jason like a vicious snake, but the hand on his left thigh pressed him back down. This was ridiculous! What was he doing tagging along with a man who spent most of his life as a recluse? So what if Jason was a killer with a body count much higher than Michael’s! There was nothing to be gained by hanging around and sitting by a campfire together. While Michael seemed to like being close to this ogre of a man, as well as being touched by him, he couldn’t figure out any practical purpose behind it. Was this some form of male bonding? Would they go their own separate ways in the morning? Why did Jason persist in calling him pretty?

Pretending not to notice Michael’s confusion and irritation, Jason stabbed into the top of a can of beans with the stolen screwdriver, pried open the lid, and set the can near the fire. Next, he took out a bag of hamburger buns, burst open the bag, and retrieved the fallen buns from the dirt by his side. Brushing one off, he placed it in Michael’s hand.

“Eat.”

Michael frowned at both the bun and the curt order he had been given. “I’m not—,” he began, only to be cut off by Jason.

“I’m caring and providing for you,” Jason said with an embarrassing display of frustrated emotion. “I’m a good mate.”

 _Mate_? What?!

Not giving Michael the chance to reply, Jason ripped open the hamburger bun, pulled the can of beans back out of the fire, and spilled half its contents onto the bun in Michael’s hand. Replacing the lid of the bun, he pressed the hot meal towards Michael’s face.

“Eat.”

Michael blankly looked at the hamburger bun filled with steaming hot beans, then back up at Jason’s expectant face. Jason’s stiff lips twisted into a macabre grin that might have contained some fondness. This development in their short relationship was a bit too bizarre for Michael to contemplate on an empty stomach, so he lifted the hamburger bun up to his mouth and took a bite. It was hot. And tasty. He almost never ate hot food. He had completely forgotten how delicious it tasted. How it ignited his taste buds and warmed his belly. No longer watching Jason with suspicion, Michael hungrily ate his meal, barely conscious of Jason doing the same beside him.

Normally, the biggest and strongest animal of the pack ate first and got the best pick of the slaughter. But Jason had seen to it that Michael was fed before he prepared anything for himself. That kind of behavior Michael had observed before with certain animals, as well as humans. The dominant male always ensured that its mate was properly taken care of. And this was how Jason was now treating Michael.

A bottle of warm, fizzy soda was thrust in Michael’s direction after he had finished the burger bun with beans. Thinking that acting the part of Jason’s mate might not be such a bad thing, Michael accepted the bottle and brought it up to his lips to sip at. And that’s when Jason’s heavy arm slipped behind his back. He nearly choked on the soda when Jason pulled him in close against his side. Closer than anyone had ever been to him before. He could smell the thick musk surrounding Jason, as well as feel every muscle and tendon in the man’s trunk-like arms. The side of Michael’s face pressed into that ratty leather jacket as Jason settled him in a very tight one-armed embrace. Strangely enough, Michael found that he quite enjoyed the feeling of this big man wrapped around him. And it was true that Jason had provided him with nourishment and a comfortable place to rest. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to allow himself to become Jason’s mate. No matter how he looked at the situation, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to go along with it.


	4. Chapter 4

Stubborn, that’s what this wild creature was. Stubborn, defiant, and prone to short periods of inattention. Everything that Michael did to annoy him, whether it be inadvertently or deliberately, thrilled Jason. Oh, it frustrated the hell out of him when Michael attempted to lash out or reject what was being offered to him, but Jason also enjoyed the chase. He had witnessed enough romantic couplings to know that the beta or omega, or whatever the hell the weaker mate happened to be, did not always give in easily. He or she had to be pursued and overwhelmed with physical stimuli. However, one had to tread carefully when doing so to avoid offending or injuring the other party. Sometimes those couplings were not so romantic and not entirely welcome. Anything non-consensual usually ended with one partner dead or the other in police custody. That was not the way that Jason wanted to take Michael for a mate. He wouldn’t mind a bout of rough foreplay, but he had no desire to subjugate the beautiful doll - soon to be _his_ beautiful doll. No, such an act of violation would break Michael’s spirit and destroy what made him who he was.

“What are you doing?”

Another thing that bothered Jason was how infrequently Michael spoke. Michael had a lovely voice that was smooth and hypnotizing, but getting him to speak was like removing fingernails with pliers. If anyone had any right to feel self-conscious about the way their voice sounded, it was Jason himself. But he had no problem with being honest with himself about how awful his voice was - like a bear that had accidentally swallowed a chainsaw. He’d already had a lifetime to get over the reality of having been born deformed, and another cursed lifetime to cope with the battle scars that he accumulated every time he pitted himself against foul intruders.

Continuing to comb his fingers through Michael’s sleek medium length hair, Jason waited for his intended mate to speak again. But he did not.

“Your hair... it’s nice,” Jason finally responded to the unanswered question. Although Michael said nothing, Jason noticed that he was now leaning into the touch. Stroking and petting always had a positive effect on one’s mate. Apparently, it also had the power to nullify the restlessness within the wild creature in Jason’s embrace. Jason knew nothing about Michael’s past or the reason why he had come to Crystal Lake. Was the little demon running from something or someone? Why had he brutally killed the old Loomis puppeteer and his crooked sister? Jason was familiar with every resident of the nearby community, but he did not get involved in their affairs unless they trespassed near the campgrounds. Because if he just went around killing indiscriminately, he would flood both his territory and the surrounding perimeter in an endless bloodbath. Now, Jason was not the smartest person in the world, but he had enough common sense to know that going around mass murdering entire communities would result in an imposed quarantine and possibly government intervention. The last thing that he wanted was to test the limits of his powers against machine guns and army tanks. Besides, there would be no need to kill if people would just stay away and leave him the hell alone.

The campfire was beginning to dull and wind down, so Jason poked at it with the end of a long branch, adding more twigs and leaves as he stirred the flames back to life. He stopped what he was doing when he felt Michael’s hand clenching at his jacket. _Not again!_ Was Michael going to insist on wearing the mask while he slept? Surely he couldn’t be that insecure. Even Jason did not sleep with his mask on. But, instead of shoving his hand inside Jason’s pocket to retrieve that creepy latex mask, Michael tried yanking the jacket open and away from Jason’s body. Jason let him get away with the mysterious behavior because he was curious to know what his intended mate was up to.

The openings of the jacket were stuck between them, but Michael managed to wrestle them free in a rather savage manner. Then, he burrowed closer to Jason while trying to get inside that jacket.

“Are you cold?” Jason suddenly realized that Michael might not be accustomed to sleeping out in the open in the middle of the night. Especially not on a chilly October night, and not so close to the lake. Michael didn’t need to say anything because Jason could feel him shivering in his arms. “Where do you usually sleep?”

“In cars... or houses.” Now Michael was talking, most likely in an attempt to convey to Jason just how uncomfortable it was for him to be sitting on the frigid ground with the crisp wind blowing through his hair, as well as the opening of his coveralls.

Jason was intrigued. Could Michael possibly have friends or family that he occasionally stayed with? Jason had none of those. Not that he would have chosen to share an enclosed space with one of those animals even if he had. “Whose cars and houses?” Maybe Michael crashed with college classmates whenever he wasn’t out and about murdering people. But while the pretty doll looked young enough to be enrolled in college, Jason just couldn’t picture him functioning very well in such a civilized environment.

“Some are vacant...”

Well, that made sense. People were always leaving their property unattended when they went off on holiday.

“Some are not.”

“You kill the homeowner?” Jason asked in surprise.

Michael peered up at him with those beautiful dark eyes of his, pink lips turned down in his trademark frown. “Why not?” Perhaps it was Jason’s imagination, but he could have sworn that he sensed a twinge of playfulness in Michael’s voice and expression.

This was not what Jason was used to. Jason killed to defend his territory. Michael, on the other hand, seemed to kill for sport, or in order to acquire things. But killing was killing. Jason couldn’t have cared less about who Michael killed or why. Unless it helped him understand this fascinating creature better. Far be it from Jason to judge his newfound companion. They both did what came naturally to them. “I’ll take you to my den in the morning, where it’s warm,” Jason promised. He squeezed his muscular arms tighter around the smaller body in his grasp, sharing his body heat, as well as displaying all the protective traits required of an alpha. No mate of his was going to spend more than one night exposed to the elements. Not if he could help it. At first light, he was going to return to the habitat that was rightfully his. If there were still law enforcers lingering around at that point in time, well, Jason would just have to create some new openings down at the sheriff’s department.

“Your den?”

Jason was quite sure that he heard some form of disapproval in Michael’s tone. “My home,” he quickly corrected himself. He had been surviving on his own for so long that he often thought more like a lone wolf and less like a man. The secluded cabin where he resided was his den, and the straw bed that he slept on was his nest. He hunted, captured and slaughtered his primary meat sources, scavenged for fruits and vegetables, and tried to assist whatever was naturally growing off of the land. He also marked the outskirts of his territory, as any other wild animal would, and eliminated any trespassers. Life was simple and that’s the way that he wanted to keep it.

“Your home is a den?”

Jason smirked. So his pretty doll could be coaxed into speaking after all. Nuzzling Michael’s cheek with his coarse jaw, Jason did his best to put his intended mate’s mind at ease. “My home is a log cabin. It’s very nice.” And it would soon be much nicer with Michael spread out on his bed. Jason had been waiting a long time for a suitable mate. All animals had needs that must be fulfilled, and Jason’s were at an all-time high. He craved the intimacy that one animal shared with another. He had witnessed both men and animals alike copulating with their chosen mate. The smell of arousal and the sight of bare flesh pressed against bare flesh excited Jason. Even now, Jason could detect a slight change in Michael’s scent, signifying that the pretty doll was almost ready to submit to him. Jason wondered if Michael would stubbornly remain silent as he was being pleasured, or would he gasp and moan like all the other submissive mates had done while their alpha was inside them. Fantasizing about the noises Michael might make, of the way he might squirm on the bed - Jason’s bed - caused Jason to salivate. He found himself filled with the primal need to pin Michael down and seek entry to his body, where it would be just as hot and welcoming as he imagined it to be.

“You’re too loud,” Michael suddenly complained.

“Huh?” Jason grunted unintelligently, his mind still occupied with the image of burying himself deep within Michael.

“You’re growling in my ear.”

Oh. At least he hadn’t been moaning. “Sorry.” Jason sometimes had the habit of behaving like an animal, sound effects included. He moved his lips away from Michael’s ear and pressed them against Michael’s neck instead. The pretty doll’s reaction was instant and electric. He took a sharp intake of breath and automatically jerked away from Jason. Wondering if maybe he hadn’t been paying enough attention to the proper way an alpha should stimulate his mate, Jason peered down into Michael’s face. He expected that porcelain white face to be set in a scowl but was surprised to see that there were hints of color in Michael’s cheeks and ears. A flush of heat in the face was either a sign of embarrassment... or arousal. Jason wanted to find out which it was, so he ducked his head down again and kissed that pale neck a bit more firmly. This time, when Michael gasped, Jason clamped one hand over his companion’s chest, both keeping him from escaping and feeling for his heartbeat at the same time. _Fast_. Michael’s heart rate was racing. Usually it took a lot more than one tiny kiss to excite the young teenage and college students that came down to Jason’s campgrounds to fuck around. But here Michael was practically hyperventilating when Jason had yet to even mark him. Then, it hit him. His soon-to-be mate was inexperienced. Oh, the little demon could attack and kill without any problem whatsoever, but he couldn’t handle a little kiss.

“What?” Michael demanded accusingly when Jason continued to stare at him.

“You’re like a little firecracker,” Jason teased, watching those dark eyes narrow murderously at him. He could have said more, like how he was going to enjoy breaking his pretty doll in, but he held his tongue. He would neither say nor do anything to insult this wonderful, unexpected gift that fate had dropped into his lap.

Before Michael turned all feisty on him, Jason clasped one large hand to that smooth face, holding him still, and leaned down to bring their lips together. Michael’s lips were so soft that Jason found himself sighing against them. He could feel the friction that his dry, leathery lips caused by rubbing over Michael’s undamaged ones. But, aside from becoming deathly still, Michael did not make a sound. He didn’t reject what was about to happen either, which emboldened Jason. When Jason’s tongue slithered out to lick Michael’s bottom lip, the lean body in his embrace tried to shove away from him. So Jason wove his fingers through Michael’s thick brown hair, his fingertips beginning to press into Michael’s scalp in the hopes of relaxing him.

“My pretty doll,” Jason murmured, before dragging his tongue between Michael’s firmly sealed lips. “Fierce little doll,” he praised, silently congratulating himself when Michael tentatively parted his lips. He couldn’t forget that the omega - and that was what he was now sure Michael was - liked to receive some flattery before giving in.

When Jason stroked his tongue inside Michael’s mouth for the first time, he was taken aback at how good the sensation of doing so felt. It was wet and hot inside, and Michael tasted all sugary and sweet from the soda he had been drinking. And the instant that Jason’s tongue made contact with Michael’s, the little demon whimpered and then moaned into the kiss. That sound alone resulted in a sizeable erection that Jason had never accomplished in all the years he had been masturbating. Jason tangled his fingers in Michael’s hair and kissed him harder, his blood pressure rising when similar sounds followed. Then, the little doll shocked Jason by biting the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t a hard bite, and it didn’t draw blood, but it made Jason want to possess his mate all the more. But he had to restrain himself and settle for this passionate kiss for the time being. He had waited for a suitable mate for so long that another night wouldn’t kill him. There were rituals that needed to be performed and they couldn’t be done up against some random tree in the middle of unclaimed land. Their first time would have to take place inside Jason’s den, where he could properly attend to Michael’s needs.

“I can smell you,” Jason remarked between kisses. Michael was now kissing him back in a rather desperate manner. As strange as it seemed, that first kiss had apparently triggered something within Michael so that he was now giving off strong pheromones. Jason had nothing else to compare the scent to other than exotic ripened fruit. He smelled almost fully ripened, but not quite. But he would be in another half day or so. But what did that mean? What was the significance of October 31st?

“I can feel you,” Michael said in a voice that was completely devoid of aggression. He was now curled up against Jason, his thigh deliberately nudging Jason’s erection.

Jason didn’t know what was going on with Michael or why it had been activated on the night before Halloween, but he was very eager to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

_Warm_. It was so warm and peaceful that Michael was reluctant to wake up to greet the day, which was strange. Because he never felt very warm despite the luxurious beds that he often slept in, and the many layers of blankets that he burrowed under. He liked to conceal himself, especially while he slumbered. Whenever he was unable to find a proper hiding place, he would keep his mask on and only allow himself to occasionally doze off - knife in hand. And he never got so comfortable as to disturb his internal alarm clock from going off.

_Today is Halloween... isn’t it?_

Michael’s eyelids flew open in a panic. Why had he let his guard down? And how the hell could he be so confused that he didn’t know what day it was? If there was one absolute truth in his life, it was Halloween. The scenery was not always the same, and there was no guaranteeing the weather, but October 31st was _always_ Halloween. Nothing had ever - or would ever - change that undeniable fact.

“What’s wrong, my pretty doll?”

Michael felt the large fingers curl against his cheek before he heard the voice. He turned his head to the side and snapped at those fingers with his bared teeth, hellbent on punishing their owner for daring to touch him. Jason luckily anticipated such a reaction and closed his hand into a fist before Michael could chomp off one of his digits. Still, Michael ended up biting Jason’s third knuckle before he realized what he was doing and to whom.

 _Jason_! The large man whom he had scuffled with last night. The incredibly powerful beast who had taken a knife to the shoulder, brushed it off, and then subdued him with very little effort. But nothing burned in Michael’s mind as brightly as the memory of having been kissed by his doting mate-to-be.

Immediately, Michael felt a foreign surge of emotion wash over his features. “Jason! I’m...” The words would not come out, even though Michael knew what it was he should be saying and why. There was an odd tightening in his chest and a loss of blood in his face that he associated with this new emotion that he was having trouble identifying.

“It’s alright,” Jason said in a tone that was devoid of any anger.

Michael expected to be struck for the horrible way he had lashed out at the man he now desired as a mate. He had literally bitten the hand that had fed him, despite how Jason had shown him kindness and affection. But Jason did not hit him, nor did he make any noise to indicate that he had been hurt, or that he was annoyed. Even now, Jason refused to release him, holding him close as they lay on the ground together. Sometime during the night, Michael had wrapped his arms around Jason’s left arm, clutching it to his chest as if he owned it. And Jason had let him, keeping him warm inside that oversized jacket of his and the way he pressed up against Michael from behind.

But it wasn’t alright. Michael had never been in a relationship before, much less considered becoming someone’s mate. He didn’t like being around others. He didn’t like being touched by others. And he abhorred the act of communicating. Although he was able to speak when the situation called for it, he found the process of aligning words in his head to make a sentence tedious and a waste of time. So why did being in Jason’s presence tempt him to express himself verbally? Why did he allow Jason to touch him and kiss him? And why did he tolerate being called ‘pretty’ and ‘doll’? Had anyone else dared to insult him in such a fashion, he would have slit their throat with one of his ‘borrowed’ kitchen knives.

“See, all better.” Jason held his right hand in front of Michael’s face, showing him that the bite marks had already begun to fade.

Had the stab wound also healed? Usually, Michael never gave a second thought to the injuries he inflicted on others, but here he was fretting over whether he had permanently scarred Jason. And why should it even matter? The tough brute was already covered in every manner of scarring Michael could imagine. One more really wouldn’t make that much of a difference... except that it would - to Michael. Was this what it felt like to care about another human being? _Was_ Jason still human? Was Michael, for that matter? And why _did_ he care so much?

“Come on, don’t be like that.” Jason spoke softly to Michael, as if he were consoling a sulking child. “You can’t hurt me.” He stroked the side of Michael’s face, coaxing him into rolling onto his back to look up and make eye contact.

In the light of day, Michael was made more aware of Jason’s rather unique physical appearance. Whereas at night Jason had appeared a little dusky, now his complexion looked slightly dull and grey. While his left eye was normal looking enough - with a hazel iris and an eyelid that opened and closed as it should, his right eye was half covered by a drooping eyelid and layers of scar tissue. He had a wide mouth that didn’t quite close properly on the left side, revealing a set of teeth that might have served better on a hyena. Jason obviously hadn’t been taken to see an orthodontist when his teeth had begun to overcrowd and grow in like sharp fangs. The rest of his face was not entirely symmetrical due to the deformation of his skull. But those abnormalities were not what Michael saw when he looked at Jason. All he saw was a powerful warrior - a man whose kind words and gentle touch affected Michael in a way that he had never been affected before.

“Your eyes!” Jason suddenly blurted out in shock.

 _My eyes?_ At first, Michael was confused. Here he was acting completely non-judgmental towards Jason when any regular person would have taken off screaming, and Jason was getting all bent out of shape over Michael’s eyes?

“Hold still.” Jason commanded when Michael lowered his head to break eye contact with him. That big hand gripped Michael firmly by the jaw and forced him to look up again. “Last night... they were black! I saw them!” He tilted Michael’s head to the left, and then the right, trying to angle the sunlight into his eyes, which was just plain annoying. When Michael closed his eyes to avoid being blinded by the pale sun, Jason tried to pry his eyelids open again by force.

“Hey!” Michael whacked Jason’s hands away and glared straight at him. “If they bother you so much, you can avoid looking at them until the sun goes down again.”

“Bother me?” Jason shook his head in manic denial. “They’re _beautiful_ ,” he gasped, seemingly mesmerized by Michael’s eyes - the eyes that Michael realized were no longer brownish-black. “Were the black ones contacts?”

“No.”

“Are these blue ones contacts?”

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Michael replied moodily. To tell the truth, he had reacted just as mystified when he’d discovered that his eyes changed to blue during the day and darkened to a brown so dark that they might as well have been black at night. “They’ve been this way ever since I was a teenager.” When Jason leaned down to closely study his eyes, Michael found himself blushing. Actually reddening at the keen way Jason was appraising him.

“ _You may be a freak, kid, but you’re a really sexy looking one.”_

Michael growled and shook both the words and the face associated with it out of his mind. He wanted to remember nothing of his past, _especially_ nothing involving his time spent in that cruel institution.

“Where are you going?”

Before Michael was even aware of what he was doing, he had already crawled out from under Jason and was carefully navigating his way around the campfire. It was still burning, which meant that Jason had kept it well fed throughout the night. The large man didn’t seem to be cold at all, so he had most likely kept the fire active to buffer Michael from the frigid air. As far as Halloweens went, this was arguably one of the coldest. The sky was grey and filled with ugly, fast-moving clouds, the wind was nasty enough to cut through Michael’s coveralls, and every word that left Michael’s lips was pronounced as a puff of white smoke. It may as well have been winter it was that cold. It looked like a thunderstorm was fast approaching for there were thicker, uglier clouds on the horizon. Soon it would start to rain, and the combination of strong winds and filthy rainwater would destroy all the exciting Halloween decorations that Michael looked forward to every year.

“It’s Halloween,” Michael replied as he scanned their sleeping area for his kitchen knife.

“Happy Halloween!” Jason announced cheerfully. When Michael frowned at him, Jason shrugged and began to kick dirt onto the fire. “Do you have a party to go to?”

Michael almost laughed at that. But he decided not to because laughing was not something that he knew how to do very well. “No.”

“But you’re getting ready to leave.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t.” This time, there was no humor in Jason’s voice. Only cold, rigid steel. “You have to stay with me.”

Michael did not owe Jason an explanation. Today was _his_ day. Halloween belonged to him and him alone. He would deal with discussing the arrangements of their mating - and whatever that happened to entail - later. Right now he had to be off hunting. He had already slept for far too long. That would explain why he felt groggy and not entirely level-headed. He also felt unnaturally warm despite the cold. It was odd how his nose, fingers and toes were cold, but his cheeks, forehead and throat were hot. And he was thirsty, abnormally so. “Where is my knife?”

“You are _not_ leaving.”

“Maybe it was not in my best judgment to agree to this _mate_ nonsense,” Michael practically seethed. “What I do on Halloween is _my_ business. Now either you get out of my way or—.” A loud, short grunting sound interrupted the rest of his threat. When he whirled around to confront the source of that noise, he was startled to see a massive red deer advancing on them from behind. On its head were a pair of unbelievably large hooked antlers, which it lowered in Michael’s direction in a threatening manner. It aggressively pawed at the ground and grunted again, swinging its head from side to side. What the hell was this?

“Get behind me,” Jason ordered as he took up a fighting stance next to Michael.

This was absurd! Deer did not go around attacking people unprovoked. Michael may not have attended Boy Scout meetings like the rest of his peers, but he knew enough about animals to know that it was men who hunted deer and not the other way around. Or at least he assumed that was the natural order of things.

“It won’t attack, will it?” Not like he was concerned either way. Animals were easy kills because they did not scheme and connive like humans did. They had no ulterior motives. The easiest way to defeat them was to predict what it was they were after and use it against them.

“It can’t control itself. Not with your scent,” Jason grabbed Michael by his arm and forcefully shoved him backwards and out of the way. The stag reacted by snorting loudly and then wheezing. Finally, it charged at Jason, intent on shredding him to pieces on its antlers.

 _What scent_? Michael couldn’t possibly fathom what it was that Jason was referring to. He bathed like any regular person and changed his clothes whenever a new outfit became available. One missed shower last night couldn’t have possibly made him smell so offensive that a deer would want to mow him down over it. Just to make sure, Michael sniffed at himself. If anything, he smelled more like Jason now than he did himself. Maybe that was what had riled up the deer. Jason reeked of masculinity and high levels of testosterone, although not in an offensive way. Michael rather liked the way Jason smelled, as well as how good it felt to be held in his arms.

A challenging roar escaped Jason as he collided with the deer, grasping it by its antlers and holding on tight. The deer was as long as Jason was tall, as well as a bit bulky looking around its middle. This was one deer that was not going to go hungry during the long winter.

Michael nervously watched as Jason was forced backwards by the deer. The stag ploughed forward, inch by inch, it’s leg muscles straining from the effort of overpowering a man who was anything but ordinary. But it ground to a halt when Jason began to push back with all his might. Twisting the stag’s head to the side by its antlers, much like a reckless driver might due when veering into oncoming traffic, Jason began to wrestle it to the ground. The deer snorted and grunted, kicking out at Jason with its mighty legs. But Jason proved to be the more formidable of the two when he shoved the stag’s muzzle into the dry earth and held it there by its antlers.

Noticing that Jason had dropped the kitchen knife onto the ground during his short, one-sided battle, Michael picked it up and stalked over to the two combatants. Without saying a word, he grabbed hold of the stag’s right antler, holding it still, and lowered the knife to its throat.

“No!” Jason commanded roughly.

Cocking his head to the side, Michael gave Jason a bewildered look. “Why not?”

“Are you going to eat it?”

Michael’s frown deepened as he pondered the answer to that question. “I’d rather not.”

“Then you can’t kill it.” Jason gripped the handle of the knife, pried it out of Michael’s hand, and chased the stag away with a good kick to its rump. The stag gave a disheartened snort, wobbled to its feet, and trotted away in what could have been a drunken stupor.

“ _It_ tried to kill _you_ ,” Michael angrily pointed out as he snatched for his knife. Again, Jason refused to relinquish it.

“It only tried to kill me to get at you, and I don’t blame it.”

“ _What_?!” Had Michael heard correctly? Was Jason siding with the dumb animal?

“The animals around here can probably smell you for miles, Michael. Your scent is so strong that I’m having a hard time ignoring it.”

“ _What_ scent?” Michael practically fumed. He was so angry that he had already forgotten all his plans for Halloween. The only thing that he was now focused on was how Jason kept insulting the way he smelled.

To pacify the storm that was brewing inside of Michael, Jason placed both hands on his shoulders and smiled tenderly at him. “My beautiful, _fierce_ little doll. You’re in heat. That’s why the stag attacked, and that’s why you’re so angry. You look unwell. You must be feverish.”

 _In heat?_! Feverish? Okay, so he was a little hot, and his hair was a bit damp with sweat, but sleeping inside Jason’s jacket was no doubt to blame for it. Humans did not go into heat. Teenagers had the habit of getting all raunchy and horny, but they did not go into heat either. And why, after all these years, would Michael suddenly begin to crave sex like a desperate adolescent? He was familiar with what a man and woman - and occasionally two men - did to slake their thirst for intimacy. It involved the exchange of bodily fluids, as well as the insertion of body parts and objects into other body parts. Michael had never been interested in sex, especially not the intercourse part. And he certainly had no desire to allow anyone to insert anything - body part or otherwise - inside of him.

“You can deny it all you want... for now,” Jason said in a practical manner as he stroked his hand down the side of Michael’s neck, traced over his collarbone, and then hooked a finger inside of the black t-shirt that Michael wore underneath the coveralls. “In a couple of hours, I can promise you you’re going to change your tune.”

When Jason stepped back before Michael could lean into the touch, Michael made a bitter sound of frustration.

“I’ll touch you when you’re less hostile.” With that promise, Jason pulled his cap down over his face and stooped down to pick up his paper shopping bag. It still looked heavy with canned beans and soda bottles. Was that what Jason lived on every day? There were worse ways to die, weren’t there? “Come,” Jason commanded when Michael just stood there glaring at him. Holding out his free hand, Jason beckoned Michael to him. “We can fight all you want, if it makes you happy. But I’m still going to make you my mate.”

For some foolish reason, Michael felt reassured by that promise. And, after taking Jason’s hand, he felt a lot cooler and more reasonable. But still...

“And we can celebrate Halloween together,” Jason added.

That sounded promising. So long as he was able to celebrate his most favorite day of the year, Michael could live with a bit of a fever and the unquenchable thirst that he felt building whenever Jason touched him.


	6. Chapter 6

“How long are you going to ignore me for?” Jason couldn’t help but let the hurt and disappointment seep into his voice as he stomped after Michael. A half hour ago they had stopped for a short breakfast of beef jerky along with a barely edible hamburger bun, plus a handful of freshly picked berries for dessert. Jason wished that he had picked up some prepackaged donuts instead because those hamburger buns hadn’t been fresh to begin with. Although they remained standing for that pathetic excuse for a meal, and Jason had tried to keep an eye on Michael the entire time, the little thief had still managed to pickpocket Jason somehow. When next Jason looked up, Michael had donned that creepy expressionless mask again and was advancing through the woods, knife in hand. Jason had a hard enough time reading Michael without the mask on, but now he had no idea what was going inside his complicated companion’s head. Not being able to see Michael’s beautiful features was driving him mad, and he was not the one in heat.

“Where are you going?”

Michael continued to breeze down the path that led to the lake. There were two problems with the direction in which Michael was headed. One - it was in the completely opposite direction of Jason’s cabin. And two - Jason had spotted a black bear roaming around the lake on several occasions during the past month. On all but one of those encounters, that bear had been fulfilling its sexual needs with a female of its species. And never the same female. Black bears were notoriously promiscuous, which usually didn’t bother Jason, but he hated to think what would happen if that same bear caught a whiff of Michael’s scent in the area.

That was probably what had upset Michael so much that he’d resorted to covering his face and giving Jason the silent treatment. Discovering that he was to become Jason’s mate, as well as being told that he was obviously in heat, had turned Michael’s reality upside down. It wasn’t that Michael didn’t believe that he was projecting his luscious pheromones into the surrounding atmosphere, because that lust-filled stag and Michael’s awareness of his own hormonal changes were proof enough for the both of them. Several times Michael had brushed up against Jason, seeming to want something that he didn’t understand, only to pull away when Jason tried to actually touch him. And aside from feeling uncomfortably hot, Michael was also constantly thirsty. But he wouldn’t drink the soda and refused to trek all the way back into town for bottled water. Which was pretty foolish because the distance back into town had been less than half of the five-mile trip from their campsite to Jason’s cabin.

The main problem seemed to be Michael’s inability to express his needs and emotions like a mature adult. Whereas most people would have given into their desire to mate, Michael was fighting it with everything he had. Although Jason was positive that Michael was an omega and could be coaxed into behaving as such, getting him to reveal his submissive side was going to be one hell of a nightmare. Michael was wild and spirited. He was accustomed to doing whatever he pleased and getting away with it. In that way he was much like Jason. But the difference between them was that Jason knew what was best for him and would avoid causing himself any unnecessary hardship.

“Michael?”

For a second, Michael paused to rub at his left upper arm, near his shoulder. The knife was in his right hand, so he almost ended up nicking himself with it in the process. That was not the first time that Jason had witnessed that curious action. It couldn’t be a mosquito bite, otherwise Michael would be scratching it instead of rubbing it. Jason didn’t have a lot of experience with people, but he considered himself to be quite the expert when it came to animal behavior. Animals were forever licking their wounds and favoring their injured appendages. Was that what Michael was doing? Was he injured? If so, then Jason wasn’t the one who had inflicted the damage on his significantly slighter counterpart. He had gone easy on Michael from the start, and immediately let up on him when he’d noticed how attractive his would be foe was. Even while they were sleeping, Jason had been careful not to do anything that might result in pain or discomfort for Michael. But if he hadn’t hurt Michael, then who had?

“Let me see.” Jason came up alongside Michael and, without asking for permission first, yanked open those charcoal grey coveralls with his two mighty hands. Not knowing his own strength, he succeeded in popping off three of the buttons and tearing the seams at the left shoulder. But he got the outfit off of Michael’s shoulders quick enough to reveal the pale bare arms that had been hiding inside it.

“What are you doing?” Michael demanded to know. He angrily looked down, inspecting the damage that Jason had done to his clothing. The top part of the coveralls was now bunched up at his waist and wrists. If he gave into the urge to stab Jason, he would have to rip his right arm free from the heavy material of the coveralls first.

Choosing not to speak until after he’d seen the wound, Jason pulled Michael’s left arm free of his clothing and lifted it up to inspect. It was Jason’s duty as Michael’s alpha to look after and protect him. If someone had hurt Michael, Jason would make the bloody mayhem he rained down upon the people who trespassed on his campgrounds look like a kiddy parade in comparison to what he would do to avenge his pretty little doll.

Once again, Jason was struck by how fair Michael’s skin was - porcelain white with no blemishes or markings. How could a man go about killing people without having any battle scars to show for it? Jason himself was covered in lacerations, burn marks, puncture wounds, and even bite marks. Some injuries healed while others remained as a constant reminder of how many intruders he had disposed of so far. He had never been good looking, not even as a child. As the cruel bastards in his neighborhood used to say, he was born ugly and would die that way. In another lifetime, Jason had been emotionally scarred by the constant harassment and taunting of his peers. But that weak child had drowned along with the original Jason. The man who had been reborn from that tragedy was not self-conscious or bothered by his looks. There were much more important things to consider than one’s almighty ego and vanity. However... Jason did not feel at all ashamed or shallow for admiring Michael’s beauty. There were very few things that Jason considered to be beautiful. It was better to acknowledge and appreciate them from the start because life was not generous when it came to second chances.

“What’s this?” Jason closed his big hand over Michael’s left elbow in order to hold that arm still. Michael shivered at the touch and gazed up at him, his blue eyes full of wonder. That was another thing Jason did not understand about Michael. How could his eyes change from an inky brownish-black to a crystal blue? It was downright peculiar, despite how lovely those blue eyes looked in the light of day.

“I don’t remember.”

At least Michael was speaking now, although Jason could hear the barely audible tremor in his pretty doll’s voice that indicated he was lying. He remembered alright. Jason didn’t know how someone could get pricked with a needle so many times in the one place and then forget having had it done. That was what the faint markings on Michael’s upper arm had to be - injection sites. Jason was all too familiar with what needle puncture marks looked like. As a child, he had endured some medical procedures that were supposed to _cure_ his ugliness. Or at least correct his deformities. But the only thing they ended up doing was making Jason’s childhood even more unbearable than it had to be.

“Does it hurt?” Jason gently ran his calloused thumb over the area. He couldn’t see Michael’s face due to the obstruction that was the mask, but he could hear him hiss through his teeth in pain. The reaction made no sense to Jason because the markings were barely visible, meaning that there was no way they could be recent. And Michael had used that exact same arm to try and tear at Jason’s eyes yesterday. There hadn’t been any signs of pain or injury at that time. It was only after Jason had kissed Michael that the omega began to go into heat _and_ to fuss with that arm. “My poor fragile doll,” Jason said as he lowered his head to kiss the almost non-existent wound.

Michael took a sharp intake of breath when Jason’s lips made contact with his flesh. What quickly followed was a flash of annoyance. “I’m not fragile,” he practically growled.

“Of course you’re not,” Jason said soothingly, stroking Michael’s sleek hair with his other hand. _Fragile, stubborn, and willful_ , he thought to himself. Wanting to alleviate some of the irritation that was coursing through Michael’s veins, Jason pulled the mask up - just far enough to reveal those pink lips - and moved in to kiss him. As soon as his lips pressed against Michael’s, the omega whimpered. It was such a sweet, vulnerable sound that Jason found himself hardening upon hearing it. Michael may have been the one in heat, but Jason was the one being manipulated by it. The smell, taste and feel of this beautiful man was driving Jason insane with sexual desire. The touching and kissing was nice, but Jason couldn’t wait to press that lean body down onto his mattress. To cover it with his own, utterly naked, as he pleasured the sweet omega with his lips, tongue and teeth. And just the thought of spreading those long legs to probe the omega’s most sacred place with an oil-slicked finger... Jason swallowed hard, needing a moment to calm himself before continuing with the kiss.

Over the years, Jason had honed his voyeuristic talents by spying on the young men and women who came down to Camp Crystal Lake to screw around. Most of them were around Michael’s age or younger, but as confident and sexually expressive as they all happened to be, none of them were as attractive as his pretty omega. They all regarded sex as something loose and free - a commodity to be had for cheap. If any one of them had thought otherwise, they wouldn’t have chosen to flirt with danger by fornicating in and around Jason’s territory. While Jason had been impatiently waiting for his own turn over the years, he was determined not to go down the same route as those foolish trespassers. He would not objectify Michael and use him solely for sex. No, the sex would just be an added bonus. He was going to love and cherish his mate, as well as protect and provide for him. There would never be a more compatible or worthy mate than Michael, of that Jason was sure.

Jason was momentarily confused when Michael began to resist the kiss only seconds after having given into it. The fact that humans didn’t regularly go into heat, especially males, did not escape Jason. He had grown accustomed to sensing things beyond the normal range of human perception after his drowning experience. Animals in heat was one of the stranger things Jason was able to perceive with his heightened senses, but this was the first time that he’d witnessed a human going through it. But the novelty of the experience was no doubt hitting Michael the hardest. The little demon would not relinquish control over his body without a fight, regardless of how much he desired to be with Jason.

“You don’t like to be kissed?” Jason murmured against Michael’s lips when the feisty doll continued to shun his advances.

Something flickered in Michael’s eyes upon hearing that question. Perhaps the knowledge that if he claimed to not like kissing that Jason would not attempt to do it again. And Michael most assuredly wanted Jason to do it again. “It isn’t that...”

“Oh? Then what is it?”

“It’s not natural,” Michael muttered in frustration. “I’m hot... really hot... but at the same time I’m freezing.” Under his breath he added, “ _No thanks to you trying to rip my clothes off.”_

“Is that all?” Jason shrugged out of his battered leather jacket and, before Michael could protest, cheerfully draped it over the smaller man’s shoulders. “There. All better.”

“Everything is so simple with you, isn’t it?” Now there was only a hint of resignation in Michael’s voice. He gratefully pulled the overly large jacket tighter around his shoulders and gave Jason a rare smile.

Not wanting to waste this opportunity, Jason grabbed a corner of Michael’s expressionless mask and began to pull up. “Can I?”

Michael nodded, allowing Jason to remove the mask.

Jason brightened at the sight of his pretty doll’s unmasked face again, stunning blue eyes and all. “While we’re here, there’s something that I want to give you.” Jason wrapped an arm around Michael and led him away from the lake.

“Is it water?” Michael asked rather desperately.

“There’s plenty of water at my cabin.” Jason guided Michael down a narrow path through the trees and then up a hill. At the top of the hill he swept his outstretched arm over the barren area that was riddled with orange blobs. “See! You can have any one you like.” At one point, the pumpkin patch had been bursting with ripe and healthy pumpkins but now there weren’t many remaining. Even though most of the pumpkins had been harvested for Halloween, there were still a few impressive ones that had been left behind. Venturing into the pumpkin patch with Michael in tow, Jason searched for a nice specimen to give his intended mate.

“Pumpkins,” Michael sighed. “This is how you celebrate Halloween?”

“I don’t celebrate Halloween,” Jason said matter of factly. “I couldn’t care less.” When Michael cringed at his honest admission, he quickly added, “But it matters to you, so now it matters to me.” Letting go of Michael, Jason bent down to pick up what appeared to be the tallest pumpkin left standing. “How about this one?” When he gazed up at Michael, he was mystified to find the omega fidgeting and looking rather bored. “Isn’t this how you celebrate Halloween? With pumpkins?”

Something about Michael’s expression said that pumpkins were the last thing on his mind on Halloween. But after a moment he seemed to reconsider. Then he dismissively shook his head at Jason’s choice of pumpkins. “That one won’t be easy to carve. The fatter ones make better Jack O’Lanterns.”

“ _This_ one is definitely the fattest.” Jason detached what looked to be the plumpest pumpkin from the ground. Then he held it up proudly for Michael to inspect. But when he noticed how Michael’s eyes seemed to have glazed over and how he kept licking his lips, Jason hurriedly took hold of his omega’s hand. “We’ll carve it after you’ve had some water.” And maybe after Jason tended to Michael’s needs. As the morning wore on and the afternoon grew closer, Michael was becoming more and more desperate for physical intimacy. The only thing his attempts to fight it were doing was tiring him out. Jason wondered again what the connection was between Halloween and Michael going into heat. Why was Halloween so important to his pretty doll? And if carving pumpkins had not been on Michael’s agenda for the day, then what had been?


	7. Chapter 7

“See. It’s nice and warm in here.”

Warm it was, but nice it sure as hell wasn’t.

Michael nervously followed Jason into a well-concealed rickety cabin that was situated beyond an overgrown cluster of trees, bushes and gigantic weeds. Nobody would dare venture so deep into that mess of a jungle for fear of stepping into a poison ivy trap, or accidentally knocking over a hornet’s nest. There was no path leading up to the cabin either, and everything looked the same - at least to Michael. It was a wonder that Jason had managed to memorize the path to and from his pathetic shanty, with all the prickly obstacles that made getting to it a major ordeal. If Michael’s coveralls hadn’t been made of a sturdy 6-ounce heavyweight cotton, they might have been sporting some horrific holes and tears instead of just being snagged in places.

The cabin looked like something that a child might attempt to construct with a bunch of fat crayons and wide streaks of color on foolscap paper. Although Jason could not really be blamed for the lopsided downwards curve of the building - or maybe he could because he had intentionally built it on a slope - he was responsible for every crooked plank of wood. It also didn’t help that the wood he had chosen was mismatched, unevenly sized, and showing off nail heads that had been hammered in on a bad angle.

“Watch your step.”

The warning almost came too late. At the last possible second, Michael pivoted on his left foot to avoid slashing up his right on the machete that had been left lying carelessly by the entranceway. And that was not the only weapon strewn haphazardly on the floor. There were other sharp objects littering the dusty rug like some kid’s lethal toy collection that had yet to be put away. A pitchfork was propped up by the front window, as if to threaten anyone who happened upon the cabin, and a bunch of long thin wires were stretched across the hallway at ankle height at regular intervals. All of these things would not be visible to anyone who was unused to moving about in the dark, because dark was what Jason’s home definitely was.

When Michael bent down to curiously pluck at one of the wires, Jason picked him up bodily by his waist, hauling him backwards and off of his feet. A split second later, a thick bloody axe flew out from its hiding spot to chop into the opposite wall.

“Be careful!” Jason chided Michael before setting him back down on his feet. “I told you to watch your step.”

“I thought you were referring to your dirty laundry,” Michael said sheepishly. He waited for Jason to release him, but when that didn’t happen immediately, he found himself marvelling at how muscular and powerful the older man’s body was. Jason had picked him up as if he were nothing but a rag doll, exhibiting superior strength and abnormally fast reflexes. An ordinary man might have felt intimidated by Jason’s display of power, but Michael was in awe of it. If it had been anyone else, Michael might have been greatly disturbed to be held at the mercy of such a monstrous man. But, so far, Jason had shown that he was anything but a monster. He had done nothing to hurt Michael or put him at unease. On the contrary, the way Jason treated Michael seriously contradicted his reputation as a psychotic, merciless serial killer. Had Michael sensed the tiniest indication of malice from Jason, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep so peacefully in his arms. And he definitely wouldn’t have allowed the man to kiss him.

“That’s clean laundry,” Jason corrected Michael as he nudged the basket of wrinkled clothing with the toe of his boot. “I just washed it two days ago.”

“Then what’s it doing at the front door?” Michael asked in bewilderment.

“Waiting for me to wear it next time.”

“So, you take your laundry out of the dryer and leave it at the front door to change into as you’re leaving?” That was just too weird.

“Dryer? I don’t have one of those. I wash everything down at the lake and then hang it on the roof to dry.”

“You don’t have a washing machine?” Michael peered down the hallway, trying to see what was at the far end. The hallway was awfully narrow and only had two doors - one on either side - before it veered off to the right. Was he mistaken in assuming that Jason wanted him to move in? Were mates automatically expected to embrace cohabitation, regardless of the living conditions of the one in possession of land and shelter? No washing machine? Michael would never voluntarily invade a house that wasn’t properly furnished or stocked up on food. Sure, he may be a dangerous criminal wanted by the police, and caution ought to take priority over comfort, but he had standards to live by. Did Jason even own a vacuum cleaner or a mop? Michael had stepped into Jason’s humble abode only to be accosted by dust, cobwebs, and piles of dirt.

“What’re you doing, my naughty doll?” Jason whispered huskily in Michael’s ear.

 _What am I doing?_ Michael blinked, tilted his head to the side in confusion, and then blushed redder than he had ever blushed before. What _was_ he doing? Nothing too untoward, if rubbing his ass back against Jason’s growing erection was to be considered socially acceptable behavior.

“ _N-nothing_!” Michael yelped as he pulled away from Jason. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. It was if his body was acting on its own and cutting his mind off from the decision-making process.

“It didn’t feel like nothing,” Jason insisted, one of his large hands possessively gripping Michael by his hip. “Is my pretty doll in a playful mood?”

“No!” Michael said a little more forcefully than he intended. His current predicament struck him as too cliche for his liking. He had naively followed an older man back to his secluded home, putting himself in a vulnerable position, and then proceeded to bait him with overly seductive behavior. Except that Michael had no experience with the powers of seduction and knew nothing about manipulating interested parties with his sexual appeal. No, that wasn’t entirely true. There were things that Michael had done, things that he preferred to leave buried in the past, that had allowed him to get his way when nothing else seemed likely to work.

“There’s no need to get all moody,” Jason said soothingly, his hand leaving Michael’s hip. “If you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t.” Before Michael could respond to that, he cheerfully added, “As soon as you make up your mind and decide that you want me to touch you, I promise that I will.”

The only response Michael had for that was to glower over his shoulder at his overeager suitor - the man who was treating him as if he were a screwed up teenager going through bouts of angst and mood swings.

“Come, I’ll give you a tour of my home.” Jason took Michael’s hand and enthusiastically led him down the tight hallway. Every now and then he would gesture to the side, or lift his foot too high in an exaggerated manner to warn Michael of the dangers that lurked within the floorboards or inside the walls.

“This is the bedroom.” Pushing open the wooden door on the right, Jason flicked a switch that bathed the small room in a sickly yellow glow from a fossilized light fixture. “You’ll sleep in the bed with me. If you need somewhere to put your clothes, I have more chairs in the kitchen.”

So that’s where clothes went - piled up on chairs. Michael tapped his fingers thoughtfully to his lips, contemplating whether to get a wardrobe from somewhere or burn Jason’s bedroom to the ground. Aside from the lumpy bed that had yet to be made, and the wooden chair stacked high with discarded shirts, jackets and boxers, the only other objects in the room were... more sharp objects. _Is that a spear?_

“I only have one pillow... but you can have it,” Jason generously offered.

Upon hearing that, Michael felt a sharp pain in his chest that might have been emotion. Here Jason was welcoming him into his home, as well as willing to give up his only pillow, and Michael was turning his nose up at the place because it wasn’t the Ritz that he was accustomed to.

Michael knew that the normal thing to do when receiving favors or a present was to say thank you and appear grateful. Had he been raised in a normal environment he may have done just that. Unfortunately for the both of them, Michael had never thanked anyone for anything in his life and he wasn’t about to start doing so now. But he was going to do his best to show Jason that he did appreciate the way he was being cared for. And he did that by pressing up close to Jason’s side, inviting the larger man to touch him as he pleased.

Elated, Jason embraced Michael close with one arm, and then hunched down a bit so that he could kiss Michael’s temple.

Like every other time Jason had touched or kissed him, Michael experienced a tingling sensation throughout his body that was not at all unpleasant. But now the feeling was much stronger. And hotter. Letting his guard down a little more, Michael nuzzled up against Jason’s rough jaw, doing what he assumed a good omega might do to solicit more physical contact. Because Michael was practically aching for more of that, as well as becoming uncomfortably hot again.

“You’re so nice when you’re behaving,” Jason murmured by Michael’s ear. His fingers sifted through Michael’s hair, disturbing the unmoving shape that the constrictive mask had turned it into. “But you’re too hot.”

Before Michael could master his expression, he felt his features darken with disappointment and rejection. His frown deepened when Jason ushered him out of the bedroom and back into the hallway. Jason didn’t want him because he was too hot? How could Michael go about rectifying his body temperature? How absurd was it that he had gone from doing everything in his power to keep Jason at bay to getting upset now that Jason was withdrawing his advances? When had he ever been upset? He never got upset. In actuality, he wasn’t even sure that he understood what the state of being upset was or how to describe it.

“Here. Take a nice cool shower while I get you something cold to drink. You’ll feel better.”

Michael stared unmoving at the open bathroom in front of him. Jason hadn’t lost interest in him? He just wanted him to feel more comfortable?

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked in concern.

“Nothing,” Michael replied abruptly. A cool shower would definitely make him feel better. No, scratch that. _Any_ shower would help to improve his mood because he disliked going for long periods of time not feeling clean. It might also provide him with ample time to analyze his current predicament and make a decision on how he wanted his interaction with Jason to play out.

“You’re acting moody again,” Jason complained as he gave Michael a sideways glance on his way inside the bathroom. Flicking on the overhead light, he gathered up a handful of what looked like beauty samples from the floor and shoved them in Michael’s direction. “This is for your hair... This is also for your hair... I think this is for sensitive skin. Do you have sensitive skin?”

“What did you do, raid some school girl’s locker?” Michael browsed through the collection of samples that he had been given, identifying a matching shampoo and conditioner for extra body, face wash for delicate skin, and an invigorating body wash. All the products had one thing in common - they were all marketed towards teenage girls who were blossoming into womanhood. That would explain the alluring scents and overly bright package designs.

“No.” Jason’s tone grew frigid as he regarded the mountain of samples that were strewn on the floor between the toilet and bathtub. “I collect them while I’m cleaning up the mess. It would be wasteful to throw them away.”

Michael could think of nothing to say to that so he just kept his mouth shut. That was yet one more thing that they didn’t have in common. Michael did not keep mementos from his kills. Jason, on the other hand, apparently went scavenging after he was done with his intruders. That would explain the selection of hair accessories lying on the tiny countertop, as well as what Michael assumed were female hygiene products. He quickly averted his eyes when he noticed the sorted pile of condoms in various sizes and flavors on the opposite side of the sink, feeling embarrassed for possibly the first time in his life. But whether it was for himself or for Jason, he was not entirely sure.

When Michael peered over at what was obviously the pile for male products, Jason shook his head. “You’re pretty. Pretty things use nice smelling shampoo and conditioner.”

There was no sense in arguing with Jason because he seemed dead set on having Michael use the samples that had been chosen for him. Besides, Michael was too hot to waste his energy on what he had already deemed to be a futile argument. “You’re not going to stand there and watch me, are you?” He asked accusingly when Jason hovered by the doorway.

“I guess not.” Then, as he was leaving and shutting the door behind him, he added, “I’ll watch you as much as I want tomorrow.”

Michael watched the door click shut in absolute astonishment. Was it his imagination or was Jason becoming a lot bossier towards him? Was that Jason’s way of asserting his dominance over him? And, if so, why did that idea cause Michael to overheat further?

 _Pretty things use nice smelling shampoo and conditioner._ Although it had originally seemed really odd to be called pretty, Michael was not only getting used to it, but he was also starting to like it. Jason was nothing but sincere with his compliments, and Michael had spent a lifetime deprived of them, so he found himself greedily anticipating the next one. If Jason wanted him to wash himself with products that smelled like honey and florals instead of bergamot and rosewood, who was Michael to argue with him? He didn’t particularly care what he smelled like so long as he smelled clean. But... if he was going to allow Jason to dictate what products he used in the shower, then Michael was going to get after that man to clean up his home. There was a reason why homeowners did not wear their work boots into the bathroom or anywhere else indoors for that matter. Boots tracked in dirt and mud, and getting rid of it between tiles would take a lot of backbreaking scrubbing. Not that Michael knew anything about cleaning or what kind of labor was involved in it.

Moving as close to the bathtub as possible so that he would not have to place his bare feet down on those muddy tiles, Michael began to strip down. He started with the leather jacket that Jason had loaned him, placing it neatly on top of Jason’s mountain of samples. Next he undid his coveralls, letting them pool down at his ankles before bending over to start unlacing his boots. The more layers he got rid of, the cooler and more level-headed he began to feel. Also the more exposed. Jason wouldn’t decide to barge in while he was taking a shower, would he? Could Michael knife him over that? _No. No knife._ No knife, no knifing. Considering how screwed up Michael’s sense of judgment had become over the past twenty-four or so hours, he would probably end up welcoming the intrusion. Just the thought of those big hands manhandling him caused Michael’s bare flesh to break out into goosebumps. There was no question in his mind that he wanted Jason to do wicked things to his body - things that Michael had never entertained in his vivid imagination before - but he still wasn’t sure how far he would let Jason get.

_“They say you have the eyes of the devil, kid. Well, I’m okay with that because I don’t need you looking at me for what I’m about to do.”_

When next Michael opened his eyes, he was standing under the shower head, choking the moldy shower curtains with his hands. The spray was weak and cold, colder than he needed it to be. If it hadn’t been, he might have wrenched the curtains off of the flimsy rod they were hung on before returning to his senses.

“And you won’t be needing your eyes at all,” Michael muttered under his breath. Forcing himself to steady his heartbeat and his breathing, Michael blindly grabbed for what looked like the shampoo sample. It was the type of conveniently packed toiletry item that young women packed for an overnight trip somewhere. It was light, didn’t take up much space, and could be disposed of after a single use, much like a good fuck. At least that’s what Michael had heard. And he had heard a lot during his extended stay at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually isn’t a chapter. I was dying to draw these two and didn’t know where to put this pic after I was done with it. I’m not great at drawing, and Michael was particularly difficult to draw, but I REALLY wanted to illustrate just how sweet I think these two look together. <3 
> 
> The next chapter will be up as soon as I finish it! :)))

Jason is incredibly happy to have finally found his ideal mate, and Michael is so overwhelmed with emotion - something completely foreign to him - that his mask has learned how to smile. *joke*


	9. Chapter 9

Much of his fifteen-year stint at Smith’s Grove Sanitarium was a senseless void for Michael - a black hole in which a good portion of his memory had been evacuated into. There were entire days, months, and even years that he could not account for due to the state he had been kept in. Drugged out of his mind and forever seated in a chair facing the wall, Michael had thought that he might eventually go insane. Because he had been in complete control of his mental faculties before entering that sensory devoid prison.

Only three things had preserved Michael’s sanity while he’d been incarcerated in Haddonfield’s private zoo for the criminally insane. The first thing had been the occasional privilege of being able to see outside. Whenever a nurse or psychiatric technician moved him for either the purpose of cleaning his room, or to prevent him from getting bed sores, Michael silently breathed a sigh of relief at the change of scenery. It was tiring staring off into the same area of space for hours upon end, as well as mind-numbingly boring. But Michael had done it in a relentless struggle to keep up the possum act. He only moved if someone moved him. And his field of view changed only if someone changed it for him. He had already decided upon being committed to that hellhole of a psychiatric institution that he would communicate with no one. He would wrap himself up in a mental cocoon, sealing himself away from the outside world, and only resurface when he found it beneficial or necessary. That was the only way he predicted he would survive being cooped up in a barren room day in and day out while being force fed a cocktail of psychotropic drugs, on top of the regular tranquilizers that were intended to keep him docile and manageable.

The second thing that helped Michael get through those fifteen years were books and sedate TV programs - the cheerful TV programs Michael had naturally absorbed as background noise without having to admit that he was actually paying attention to them. The book reading had been done in secrecy, either over someone’s shoulder, or in the comfort of his private room after he’d pocketed a novel from the recreation area. If it hadn’t been for the auditory stimulation derived from the TV programs, Michael’s speech pattern might have deteriorated over time. Repeating the narrations from children’s programming quietly to himself had helped him retain his ability to speak. The books, on the other hand, had increased his vocabulary as well as his knowledge of a plethora of subjects both general and specific. He had even learned a great deal about the psychiatric profession itself from some textbooks that a lazy technician had forgotten to take home with him one night. That information had been invaluable in Michael’s never-ending battle of wits with that prick Loomis.

The last and possibly the most important strategy that had helped him avoid mental and physical stagnation had been exercise. Those mandatory daily courtyard walks and stretches that the staff coaxed all patients into participating in had not been sufficient to keep Michael in top shape. So, once the lights were off and the cameras had stopped recording, Michael had gone about his own exercise regimen. Included in his tailored workout were sit-ups, pushups, chin-ups that utilized the upper frame of the doorway as a makeshift bar, lunges, and target practice. Sounds echoed far too easily down the corridors, which meant that Michael had needed to use soft objects and hurl them against his bed. Then, towards the end of his daily workout routine, Michael would unwind with a repetitive forwards lunge and downwards swing of his right arm - his knife-wielding arm. He would create variations on the movement if he felt energetic enough, sometimes pretending that he was slashing upwards on an angle, or occasionally stabbing at something unseen behind him. It made for a satisfying end to an otherwise unendurable day.

However, one night, when Michael was supposed to have begun his favorite nightly routine, footsteps approached his private room, effectively disturbing what he had been up to. Not knowing why someone was wandering around in the dead of night, but also not wanting to take any chances, Michael had climbed into bed. Before a key slid into the lock that kept the door safely fastened from the outside, Michael had already assumed his usual dead possum position. Stretched out on his back with the sheets pulled up to his chin, his eyes closed as he feigned sleep, he assumed that this random wellness check would verify his compliance with the curfew rule and move on. Only... it didn’t. _He_ didn’t.

“Well, well, well... What have we here?”

Michael recognized the voice immediately. He associated the staff members at the sanitarium with their voices because he rarely looked at any of their faces. At least not during the day. He was very careful to keep his gaze downcast for most of the day, especially since he’d discovered that his eyes had the bizarre habit of changing colors from near black to a bright blue while there was daylight outside. Nobody bothered to make eye contact with him anyway. It was best to avoid looking into the blackened eyes of the devil, or so Michael had heard. One of the benefits of making oneself appear as a non-entity was a total lack of censorship. People spoke freely in front of and around Michael because they assumed that his mind and body were uninhabited. Until that old coot Loomis convinced people otherwise, the staff at Smith’s Grove would undoubtedly continue to air their dirty secrets in Michael’s presence.

“Asleep already, are you?” Noah, the resident asshole, crept closer to confirm that Michael was indeed asleep. From what Michael had gleaned from the gossiping staff, Noah was a bachelor in his mid to late 40’s and still living with his parents. He had the tendency to make disparaging remarks towards the patients, as well as occasionally sexually harass some of the younger nurses. The way Michael understood it, people in the medical profession often received promotions and pay raises the longer they worked in their field. With Noah it was the opposite. Due to his asinine behavior and overall sloppiness, Noah had been recently demoted, as well as received a pay reduction for the poor quality of his work. The only reason why he hadn’t been fired altogether was because Smith’s Grove was understaffed and had a hard time attracting fresh recruits. What with the rumors of physical abuse involving both patients attacking staff and staff attacking patients, the inconvenient location and lousy work environment, nobody was too keen on filling a position at the high profile sanitarium.

“You’re not hiding anything under here, are you?”

 _Hiding anything where?_ Michael barely had time to process that thought when he felt the chilly night air brush over his exposed left leg. Noah had lifted the sheets in the search for hidden objects? What could Michael have possibly hidden? Patients were not allowed access to sharp objects, including eating utensils, and even those were always meticulously counted after every meal to ensure that no plastic spoons had gone missing. As if Michael could realistically gouge out someone’s eyes with a plastic spoon!

“Damn! Have you ever got a pair of legs on you!”

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Michael’s confusion intensified and mixed with revulsion when he felt Noah’s large sweaty palm clamp onto his calf. What was happening here? The staff never touched Michael unnecessarily as he was perfectly capable of dressing and bathing himself, albeit in a disturbingly robotic manner. What reason could Noah possibly have for stroking Michael’s calf?

“They say you have the eyes of the devil, kid. Well, I’m okay with that because I don’t need you looking at me for what I’m about to do.” Having made what sounded very much like a threat to Michael, Noah slid his hand upwards. Up past Michael’s knee and onto his thigh, which meant that Noah now had his hand inside Michael’s gown.

At that moment, all of Michael’s survival instincts kicked in, automatically overwriting the years of mental and physical training he had endured to remain unresponsive to all external stimuli. Without thinking, his left hand shot out to grab Noah by the wrist. “No!” He uttered the first word he had spoken to another human being in nearly fourteen years, cramming as much unexpressed emotion into it as possible. This was a frustrating turn of events. Not only was Noah not the skirt-chasing pervert he made himself out to be, but he had also successfully blown Michael’s cover with a mere touch. A disgusting, unwanted touch, but a touch all the same.

“Hah!” Instead of backing off, Noah gave a short laugh of incredulity. “So you can talk! Boy, do you have everyone fooled.”

Michael wasn’t sure how he had expected things to play out after that, but he most certainly hadn’t predicted Noah climbing on top of him and reversing his grip in order to pin Michael to the bed. Things of a sexual nature were a mystery to Michael. He had never had the chance to experience anything like that after his entire childhood, and effectively his life in general, had been taken from him. So to have an overly hairy ape of a man leering down at him, not even an inch from his face, shook Michael’s confidence something terrible.

“You and I are going to have such fun,” Noah promised as he fought with Michael in order to subdue him.

That kind of fun Michael could do without. He would much rather compromise his safe position at the sanitarium than tolerate being touched by the despicable brute on top of him. “What you are going to do is get off of me,” Michael instructed in as calm a tone as possible. He couldn’t afford to lose control of this situation, not with what was at stake.

“Am I now?” Noah taunted, his stubby fingers biting into Michael’s thin wrists.

“I’ll scream,” Michael threatened. The idea of doing such a thing was humiliating for Michael, but not as much as putting up with Noah’s unwelcome weight crushing him into the already uncomfortable mattress.

“Go ahead, princess. You do that and everyone will know that you’ve been faking it all these years. They might even transfer you to a maximum security prison after they discover that you’re not mentally incompetent.”

Noah was correct. There was that risk. Unless...

Struggling against Noah with all his strength, Michael managed to free his right hand - his dominant knife-wielding hand - from Noah’s grasp. He then intertwined his fingers with Noah’s, locking them together in a mockery of a lover’s grip, and forced Noah’s hand downwards again.

“Have you changed your mind?” Noah gloated when his fingers were guided to the soft flesh of Michael’s inner thigh.

“No.” Manipulating Noah’s fingers in his painfully tight grasp, Michael forced them into his own thigh, digging them in as deeply as possible.

“What the fuck?!”

Michael closed his eyes momentarily as the pain grew rather intense, the feeling of Noah’s fingernails slicing into his tender flesh making his stomach turn. The sensation of a warm sticky liquid trickling over their fingers and down his leg made the nausea worse, but he didn’t let up until he was sure that the damage he had caused was quite substantial. Then, opening his eyes to stare at Noah’s horrified expression, Michael calmly challenged him. “What if I scream now? Who do you think they’re going to believe? A sexual deviant such as yourself? Or an innocent, wounded patient?”

“You screwed up fuck!” Noah spat as he yanked his hand free from Michael’s. He was quick to climb off of Michael, but not quick enough to escape scot-free.

“Stop,” Michael commanded. “You and I are not finished yet.”

“I won’t touch you anymore, okay?” Noah pleaded. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

“What if I were willing to let you touch me... for a price?” Michael knew that the interest was still there as soon as Noah spun around again, his greedy eyes raking over Michael’s body.

“Yeah, and as soon as I touch you, you’ll do something psychotic again before screaming for help,” Noah accused.

“That was a warning to let you know that you are to play by my rules,” Michael pointed out. “If you give me what I want, then I’ll let you have what you want.” It was a revolting proposition, especially considering what Michael was offering the sick bastard, but he knew that another opportunity might not present itself for a long time. Besides, all he needed to do was string Noah along until he got what he wanted, much like the way he had seen the occasional nurse do with one of the wealthy doctors. He wouldn’t have to actually do anything with Noah. Once he was done with the perverted lowlife - and that was exactly what Noah was for preying on a helpless patient - Michael would happily dispose of him.

“And what exactly do you want?” Noah had moved closer again and was now hungrily eyeing the way Michael’s gown had hiked up indecently to partially expose his black boxer briefs.

“Access to a vehicle... and driving lessons.”

“Are you insane?!” Noah nearly bit his tongue when Michael repositioned his legs so that the gown now had a suggestive gap at the hem, which made looking up it rather easy.“Why do you want driving lessons?” He quickly rephrased his question.

“Why not?” Michael stubbornly countered.

“How many lessons are we talking about? I have a car... and the security here is lax enough at night, but that doesn’t mean that it’ll be easy to give you driving lessons. Especially not in the dark.”

“I learn better in the dark,” Michael insisted.

“We wouldn’t be able to leave the parking lot, not with the mandatory security check at the exit.”

“The parking lot will suffice.”

“Fine, you’ve got yourself a deal. But after I’ve given you what you want, you’d better give me what I want or there’ll be hell to pay.”

At the sound of the door handle being grasped, Michael hastily pulled the sheets back up to his neck and willed his eyes to shut. Now his enhanced senses were picking up Noah’s labored breathing and the startled gasp of a new visitor.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I...uh... saw the patient was not properly covered up and came in to do so,” Noah smoothly lied to the female intruder.

“Is that all? Are you sure that you didn’t come in here looking for that pack of cigarettes that you carelessly left in the rec room earlier?”

“Uh...”

“Because I found those in Patient 205’s room just the now. You’d better watch yourself or you’ll end up transferred to the janitorial staff.”

“Sorry. I’ll be more careful in the future. I promise.”

Michael listened to Noah slither out of the room like the snake that he was, before bracing himself for what he would need to endure with Loomis’ callous cohort. Whereas Loomis was forever trying to crack Michael with a combination of mental and verbal abuse, this woman went about things with a more direct method. What Michael had to endure with Loomis was like a walk in the park compared to what Loomis’ frigid nurse with no name put him through.

“Now that I’ve gotten rid of that idiot, let’s get down to business, shall we, Michael?”

Michael heard the familiar sound of a tray of syringes being placed beside the bed, along with a stun gun, and felt his muscles involuntarily clench in anticipation of the pain that would soon follow.


	10. Chapter 10

“Out you go, dusty old bear.” Jason cheerfully carried his bundled up bear rug out behind his cabin, opened it up, and began to shake the hell out of it. It was a very luxurious, plush rug - glossy black and thick - that Jason took out of his small storage room before winter hit. He had killed and skinned the bear himself a few years back when it had wandered into his territory. He couldn’t have it digging up his vegetable garden, nor did he want it attracting unwanted hunters, so Jason had ended up with no choice but to get rid of it. He hadn’t been thinking of its fur coat being of any use to him at the time. Food was usually a primary concern for him, so he had been quite pleased with himself for scoring such a large supply of fresh meat. Of course he also had smoked meat on hand for whenever the fresh variety was unavailable but, although he was not picky by nature, he did prefer freshly slaughtered meat to the preserved type.

After the bear meat had been either eaten or salted and smoked, Jason worried about what to do with the bear hide. It would have been rather obvious to just dump it down by the lake or abandon it elsewhere in the woods for some nosy adventurer to find. With no other options available to him, he had decided to keep the fur as a rug. In order to clean it up, he had taken it down to the lake to scrub and wash, then left it on top of his roof for several days to dry. After that, he had salted it, dried it again, repeated the process, then immersed it out back in a large container with a salt solution for half a day. Finally, he had given what was left of the bear one final dunking in a soapy container, rinsed it off, dried it on the roof one last time, and set his shiny new bear rug in the middle of his living room. It had been one hell of a tedious process, but it had definitely been worth it in the end. Choosing to turn what was left of the bear into a rug was probably one of the best decisions he had made considering how cold it got in the winter.

Halloween was still October and therefore not winter, but Jason figured that Michael would appreciate a nice warm bear rug to cuddle up on while they ate dinner. Because if there was one thing that Jason had learned from the horribly rude trespassers that he had to deal with several times a year, it was that romance was of the utmost importance in a relationship. At least a relationship that was to have any hope of longevity. And if there was one thing that Jason really desired, it was to keep Michael forever. There would never be another creature as beautiful or as fascinating as Michael, of that Jason was certain.

“Back inside with you.” Having finished air cleaning the bear rug, Jason trudged back up the hill to the back entrance of his cabin. The large expanse of land behind the cabin was less of a backyard and more of a mini field. Over the years, Jason had planted carrots, potatoes, cabbages, beets, onions and shallots, parsnips and radishes. Given that the soil surrounding his cabin was both loose and fertile, it made it relatively easy for those chosen vegetables to send down roots. In the beginning he had been worried about rabbits digging up his crops, but he had solved that problem in a fairly satisfactory manner. Using the vegetables to lure the rabbits closer instead of chasing them away, Jason had begun to trap them and use them for stew. It gave him an alternate meat source for when he ran out of deer or wild boar, and it kept them out of his vegetable garden.

Aside from the vegetables that he grew on what he considered to be _his_ land, there were also wild mushrooms growing nearby, and he occasionally collected wild blueberries and raspberries on his morning walks. Milk was more of a luxury and hard to come by. In order to get his hands on milk, Jason had to either go into town for it, or sneak onto a neighboring farmer’s land to illegally milk one of their cows. If he had milk, he could make cream or butter, although he rarely did so because it was too much of a hassle

Inside the cabin, the smell of a thick bubbling stew permeated the air. Jason didn’t mind because it smelled rather nice. Not like when he went about frying slabs of boar meat and had to open up all the windows to get rid of the pungent odor. He had thrown the stew together in a pot as soon as Michael started his shower. His mate-to-be was in a bit of a sour mood, partially due to hunger, and would no doubt perk up after a bowl of Jason’s famous rabbit stew. Not that anyone had ever tried it before or that anyone even knew about it. The only reason Jason called it famous was because his mother had taught him to do so. If the recipe was good and you managed to successfully make it more than once, then it was famous.

Crouching down in front of the fireplace, Jason carefully spread the bear rug out on the wooden planks. Remembering the way Michael had furrowed his brows at the sight of all the mud and dirt on the floor, Jason made an effort not to step on the rug with his dirty boots. He had been meaning to clean up the place before those deputies swarmed the area, but now he would have to put it off until later. Michael seemed more like a city boy than someone who was accustomed to the wilderness, so he lacked the imagination necessary for surviving out in the woods. Maybe those city dwellers enjoyed walking around their homes in socks or barefoot, but it just wasn’t practical in a cabin like Jason’s. The hidden traps alone were good reason to keep one’s footwear on inside Jason’s home. The lack of good insulation was another reason. Dirt and small stones were forever being blown in through the cracks in the walls that Jason had yet to seal. It seemed like every time he closed one of them off, another one appeared right beside it. The problem was that he lacked the proper building materials to make his cabin impenetrable. It would have been easier for him to just commandeer one of the summer homes in the area, but he chose not to for two reasons. The first one being that it would just get him into more trouble than he could handle, and the second was that he actually liked building things with his own two hands. This cabin was his greatest accomplishment.

“Are you hungry, Mother? I’m making my famous rabbit stew.” Jason popped his head into the little storage room off to one side of the kitchen. There his mother sat in her usual spot, fondly gazing at the family photos that Jason had retrieved from his previous life. It was very dark inside the storage room as there was only one light bulb hanging by its wire over the doorway. There weren’t any windows leading to the outside because Jason hadn’t wanted there to be any. That’s the way his mother liked her private room to be - dark and quiet. “After dinner, I’m going to introduce you to my new mate.” Jason smiled happily at the way that sounded. “He’s very pretty, just like one of those porcelain dolls you used to have. With fair skin and big blue eyes. Sometimes they’re black. But they’re still pretty.” It didn’t matter what color Michael’s eyes were. He was absolutely perfect with either black eyes or blue. “Sometimes he’s naughty...,” he warned his mother, remembering the way the wild creature had bit his knuckles. “But I like him that way. He’s not like all the others...” Jason blushed as he revealed his innermost thoughts to his dearest mother. “I kissed him - twice. And he kissed me back. He doesn’t look at me like I’m ugly or a monster, Mother. He sees the real me.”

Beginning to shift nervously from one foot to the other, Jason wondered how much he should reveal to his mother. There were never any secrets between them as he always felt comfortable confiding in her.

“I love him,” Jason blurted out, knowing that it was true and needing to hear himself say it out loud. “I never thought that it would be possible... that I could love anyone after...” He paused to gesture pitifully in his mother’s direction. “He’s very different from the scum that trespass on our land, Mother. He may be a willful little demon, but he’s untainted and innocent.He’s just as lonely as I am and in need of a mate. He’s perfect in every way... I feel like he was made just for me.” That was exactly how Jason thought of Michael, as an enchanting custom-made gift.

After a moment of silence, Jason sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I know, I know. It’s about time that I made my own decisions. I don’t need to ask your permission anymore.” Turning to leave, he noticed the light above his head flicker twice. “Do you want me to leave the light on? No, of course you don’t. I shouldn’t waste energy.” Switching off the light, Jason backed out of the storage room and gently shut the door behind him.

Crossing over to the living room, Jason bent down to the pot of stew that was bubbling merrily in the center of the fireplace. Lifting the lid off with a pair of metal tongs, he peered inside to see how the meat was cooking. As expected, it was breaking apart inside the stew and becoming more tender. Thinking that it was just about done, Jason pulled it out of the fire so that it would be left simmering when he returned with Michael. He also repositioned the fat pumpkin that he had carved so that it was now facing the entranceway. With two fat circles for eyes and a wide slash for a mouth, the cheerful Jack O’lantern would surely put a smile on his pretty doll’s face.

Suddenly, from the bathroom came a loud crash followed by the sound of something - or _someone_ \- slipping in the tub.

Jason reacted instantly, tearing off down the hall at a thunderous pace. When he reached the bathroom, he threw open the door and charged inside. “Michael!” He just about shouted, stopping short of the bathtub when he saw the scene that awaited him.

Michael had somehow managed to pull down both the shower curtains and the rod they had been hanging on. It was questionable whether it had been an accident or not because the little demon still had the shower curtains clenched in his fists. Jason didn’t know what to make of his house guest lying sprawled in the tub, tangled up in those orange gradation shower curtains. What he did know was that he hadn’t been expecting to see so much milky white flesh until later on in the evening. He was so overwhelmed by the sight of that beautiful slender body, with its long leanly muscled limbs and nicely shaped ass, that he forgot how to speak for several seconds. It was the look in Michael’s eyes that eventually broke the spell, urging Jason to stop acting like a buffoon and tend to his injured mate.

“Are you hurt?”

Instead of answering, Michael just stared up at him blankly, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Jason moved forward, hesitated, and then retreated to grab the shabby beige towel that was hanging behind the door. Moving back towards Michael, he stopped again, not really knowing what he was supposed to do. Or, more importantly, what he was _allowed_ to do. “Can I touch you?” He asked to make sure.

Michael blinked, which caused some of those tears to slide over his cheeks, then gave a faint nod.

That was all the permission Jason needed to crouch down to Michael and envelope him in that big towel. Pushing the shower curtains aside, Jason wrapped his arms around Michael in a gentle embrace. He could sense there was something wrong with his pretty doll, but he had no idea what was broken or how to fix it. “You’re all shivery.” He reached over to turn off the faucet, which was spraying them both with freezing cold water. “Why would you take a shower this cold?” Still, he got no answer. When Michael desperately pushed against him, Jason tightened his embrace. Although he had wanted the omega to give into him, seeing Michael so vulnerable and weak made Jason feel angry instead of turned on. Someone had scared and hurt his beloved doll. There was no other explanation for it. It made sense considering how Michael often appeared dazed and unresponsive, as if his mind had drifted from the present to some past trauma. Come to think of it, Jason knew absolutely nothing about Michael. He didn’t know where the little assassin had come from or what had brought him to Crystal Lake. What had driven Michael to kill two members of the Loomis family? Had it been a random killing or a personal grudge? Had Michael run away from home? Did his family miss him? Were all his family members dead? Had they abused or neglected Michael? If that were the case... Jason would feel obligated to deal with them. “Come into the living room where it’s warm.”

Trying not to think of how naked Michael was inside that towel, Jason helped him out of the tub and held him steady as he shoved his feet back into those work boots.

“My clothes,” Michael murmured, looking back at the neat pile he had left on the floor as he was led out of the bathroom.

“I’ve got something warmer for you to wear,” Jason promised. Together they shuffled along to the living room. Michael tripped on his untied laces a few times but was being hugged so tightly by Jason that he was in no fear of falling.

As soon as they entered the toasty warm living room, with the fireplace burning brightly along the far wall, and the Jack O’lantern glowing right beside it, Michael gasped in surprise. He had probably been expecting another sparsely decorated utilitarian room with nothing but mud on the floor. Instead, he was greeted by the living room to the far left, with the plush bear rug spread out in front of the fireplace, and a long wooden sofa lined with stuffed taupe cushions behind it. Pinned to the left wall were keepsakes from Jason’s first few years alone in the world. There was the rabbit foot from Jason’s first kill, a pair of antlers from the stag that had once challenged Jason - and lost, an old record that Jason had accidentally dredged up while he’d been fishing, and a wooden board with a collage of colorful bottle caps that Jason had begun collecting to kill the boredom. On either side of those decorations was a fancy looking tapestry that Jason had stolen from one of the camp cabins that he had terrorized.

Separating the living room and the kitchen was the great big wooden door that led outside to the vegetable garden and tiny smokehouse. Set in the door were 4 thick panes of glass that allowed more light to enter the room. To the right of that was a big functional window with two panes that were capable of sliding open if the weather was hospitable. There was a small round table with two matching chairs in the kitchen for eating meals, a long bench for preparing food, and a row of knives of varying lengths and thicknesses pinned to the wall above it. Behind that was the storage room where Jason kept his smoked meats and harvested vegetables, as well as the fruits and nuts that he foraged. And then there was his mother...

“Come onto the rug.” Jason beckoned Michael onto the aired out old bear, watching him toe off his boots and tentatively step onto the rug. Judging by the way Michael curled his toes on the rug and squished his heels into the fur, he definitely liked the texture of it. Without being asked, Michael sank down onto the rug with the towel pulled tightly around his body. Reaching down with his right hand, he buried it in the thick fur before beginning to pet it. Jason smiled at the action, happy that Michael seemed to have forgotten his mishap in the shower and whatever had led up to it. But when Michael gazed up at him, his eyes filled with adoration, and actually smiled, Jason felt like his heart might burst. The connection that he had made with Michael during their first moment of physical contact intensified to the point where it hurt to breathe. Before Jason realized what he was doing, he was on his knees on the rug, drawing Michael into his arms. “Do you really like it?” Jason excitedly asked. “Your new home,” he added.

“It’s wonderful.” Michael sounded nothing but sincere as he relaxed in Jason’s embrace, the damp towel the only thing separating that soft flesh from Jason’s wandering hands. “You’re an incredibly skilled carpenter.”

“And hunter,” Jason shamelessly bragged. He wanted Michael to know that all his needs would be taken care of from now on. The pretty omega would not go hungry or ever have to worry about sleeping in a cold place. “If you’re dry, you can put these on.” Taking the midnight blue sweater and dark grey track pants off of the sofa, Jason handed them to Michael. “They might be too big.” No, they were _probably_ too big. Without the added height of those work boots, Michael was several inches shorter than Jason, as well as a great deal more slender than he actually looked in those coveralls. “But they’re clean and warm.” Backing off a bit to give Michael room to put on the clothes, Jason took his time visually appraising his pretty doll. Now that Michael’s hair was freshly washed and beginning to dry, it was a lot fluffier than it had been before the shower. Apparently, the mask was responsible for turning Michael’s hair into an unmovable flat shape when it was actually somewhere in between wavy and curly. Jason preferred the thick waves to the shape that he hadn’t been able to play with. Curls he could play with. He could wind them around his fingers and carefully tug on them.

Michael’s cheeks turned red when he realized that Jason wasn’t going to turn away. Although he didn’t complain about Jason’s voyeuristic tendencies, Michael did keep the towel between them as he pulled on the pants and then struggled into the sweater. Predictably, the sweater ended up looking more like an oversized nightshirt, and the pants would have fallen down had there not been a drawstring attached to the waist.

“I’ll check and see if I can find something in your size in the morning. There’s a box of unsorted clothes in the storage room.”

“Can I look through it?” Michael began to get up, obviously thinking that he looked quite ridiculous in his ill fitting outfit.

Jason gently pushed Michael back down. “Later. After you meet Mother. You should keep the sweater. You look cute in it.” Jason sensed Michael tense up before he made eye contact with him again. “What is it?”

“Your mother is here?” Michael’s tone was cautious while at the same time uncertain. How much did he know?

“What’s left of her,” Jason snarled bitterly. He caught himself a second too late, his reaction to the question having frightened Michael. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have used that tone with you.” He leaned forward and brushed an errant lock of dark brown hair off of Michael’s forehead before kissing him there. “Come.” He grasped the younger man’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “We will pay our respects before dinner.”


	11. Chapter 11

Jason was relieved when Michael obediently put back on his boots and followed him to the storage room after he’d drunk his fill of the water he’d been given - herbal water that Jason had prepared to help calm the omega down. His mate-to-be was understandably nervous but asked no annoying or insensitive questions like, ‘What is your mother doing in the storage room?’ The stories surrounding Camp Crystal Lake, Jason, and his mother were notorious with both the locals and national TV networks. There was no way that Michael could be ignorant of what had happened to Pamela Voorhees, Jason’s kind and selfless mother. And if Michael was aware of all the facts, then he probably also knew what to expect beyond that closed door.

Pushing open the storage room door, Jason stepped inside, pulling Michael along with him. He then switched on the light and cleared his throat. “Mother, this is Michael.” Over by the altar that Jason had built for her sat what remained of Pamela Voorhees’ severed head. While it no longer looked as gruesome as that first day when Jason had retrieved it from where it had fallen, it certainly wasn’t something a normal person would want to spring on their first date. The elder Voorhees had originally been quite a lovely lady with short blond hair and hazel eyes. As time passed, her hair had turned grey and fallen out, and her skin had shrivelled up and disintegrated. Now all that remained was her cold skull. It was covered in scratches from when Jason had temporarily buried it to keep it safe, leaving it in an unmarked grave while he built the cabin that they now resided in. When he excavated it again with a shovel, the occasional scratch and chip had been unavoidable. He and his mother had been through a lot. More than any individual had any right to be put through. His mother would understand and forgive him for his carelessness.

“Jason... I’m so sorry.”

That was not the response Jason had been expecting. He thought that Michael would go along with the introduction and greet his mother accordingly. Instead, Jason felt Michael’s arms wrapping around him from behind, and then he felt the omega’s warmth up against his back. Michael was hugging him? Why?

“Why are you sorry?” Jason gruffly asked without turning around.

“You didn’t deserve this... and neither did your mother.”

Jason clenched his fists and worked his jaw angrily as he fought against his emotions. He had vowed not to shed another tear in front of his mother, not because he was weak but because he no longer wanted her to worry about him. He longed for her to rest in peace knowing that he was in complete control of his life. That’s what any mother would want for their child, he imagined. For many years he had fought on her behalf, for revenge, for retribution. But now he fought and killed because he believed he was just in doing so. And he challenged himself to improve and grow so that he would have the life his mother had always hoped he would have - the life she hadn’t been able to provide him with herself. That life now included Michael, the fierce little doll who also seemed to have a heart locked away somewhere deep inside that complicated personality of his.

“No, we didn’t,” Jason agreed. He removed Michael’s arms from his thick waist, repositioning the smaller man in front of him where he could be easily embraced. “My mother was a good mother. She worked hard and raised me well.” When Michael merely inclined his head in response to the information, Jason gave him a light nudge. “Please introduce yourself.” Now that Michael was so close, Jason was able to enjoy how wonderful the omega smelled. Michael’s scent was sweet and intoxicating, a combination of honey and florals mixed with the natural pheromones he was releasing with his heat. Although the omega was no longer as physically hot as he had been before the shower, he now smelled a lot more enticing. Jason didn’t know if he would be able to make it through dinner without luring his pretty little doll into bed. And if he felt that way, he could only imagine how Michael was coping with the peak in his hormonal state.

“Mrs. Voorhees,” Michael began in a respectful tone as he addressed the skull that was surrounded by the thoughtful ornaments Jason had collected for his mother. Pretty things like pearl earrings, a silver charm bracelet, a keychain with dangling animals, tubes of half-used lipstick, and makeup palettes. More souvenirs from Jason’s kills. “I’m Michael, Jason’s...”

No, this would not do. It was all or nothing. Squeezing Michael tightly in his arms, Jason spoke reassuringly to him. “You’re my mate, Michael. Or you will be soon. My mother needs to know who you really are. And where you’re from.” Because Jason was also dying to know.

At first Michael hesitated. It was difficult to tell if he was reluctant to introduce himself because he was having second thoughts about becoming Jason’s mate, or because he wasn’t comfortable with revealing his personal information. “I’m Michael... _Audrey_ Myers from Haddonfield, Illinois.” Michael muttered the middle name under his breath as if he were expelling a curse, so Jason almost didn’t catch it. _Almost_. Jason’s hearing was supernaturally acute, which aided him in hunting and stalking his prey, as well as picking up telltale signs of nervousness. And was Michael ever nervous! The omega was breathing quicker than usual and fidgeting. If he pulled any harder on the sleeve of his borrowed sweater, he would end up unraveling it.

_Illinois_?! There were many subjects that Jason had done poorly at, with geography and math being two of his all-time worst, but even he was aware of the considerable distance between Illinois and New Jersey. Unless Michael had a car that he had stashed somewhere, he had most likely traveled to Crystal Lake by bus or hitchhiked his way over. Then again, for a masked man to risk either form of transportation was suicidal, unless Michael had presented himself as he was now and Jason just couldn’t see that happening. A creature as wild and restless as Michael would not sit on a bus for hours upon end with his face exposed to the world. Nor would he tolerate the company of another person sitting so close to him inside the shared space of a car. Had Michael walked all the way to Crystal Lake, concealing himself from the rest of the regular traffic?! And for what? To settle an old score with the Loomis family?

And _Audrey_? Michael’s middle name was Audrey? What kind of a name was Audrey for a man? It was a girl’s name, wasn’t it? Why would Michael’s parents have named him Audrey? Maybe his parents had been hoping for a girl and left the middle name as is because they’d been too lazy to think of a proper name for a boy. Or maybe they’d taken one look at Michael’s big blue eyes, long eyelashes, and thick wavy hair and decided that he was too pretty for a boy’s name. No, that didn’t make sense. Babies weren’t born with hair..., were they? Jason couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a baby, nor did he particularly care. He had zero interest in infants.

“Do you have a family in Haddonfield?” Jason asked, knowing that his mother would instruct him to leave no stone unturned until he had discovered everything there was to know about Michael.

“No.”

“Then you lived by yourself?”

“No.”

Jason disrespectfully lowered his gaze from his mother’s altar to turn Michael around to face him. Grasping the younger man firmly by his shoulders, Jason looked down at him with his sternest expression - the one he had seen his mother wear on countless occasions when Jason himself had been bad. “What do you mean ‘no’?” Michael had either lived with his family or by himself. What other kind of living arrangements were there? He sure as hell hadn’t lived with a boyfriend because he could barely kiss, much less participate in other more involved acts that Jason would have killed another man for performing on his angelic doll. And there definitely hadn’t been a roommate because Jason couldn’t picture one of those civilized humans putting up with Michael’s willfulness or mood swings. And Michael definitely wasn’t the type to put up with anything he didn’t like either. Plus, Michael was a bit too trigger-happy with that knife of his.

“You asked me if I lived with my family or by myself. The answer is no,” Michael replied simply while avoiding eye contact.

Glancing back over at his mother’s altar, Jason’s shoulders heaved with frustration. “This is what I warned you about, Mother. Sometimes he’s naughty.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” Michael tried to shake off Jason’s hands but couldn’t for how strong they were.

“I know you are, but I still don’t understand.” Jason tried again with an open-ended question. “Where did you live before coming to Crystal Lake?”

Michael immediately became flustered. He looked up at Jason, frowned, and then took to glaring at the doorway. “You don’t want to know.”

Was that shame Jason heard in Michael’s voice? Jason knew that tone well from his many years of spying on the intruders that screwed around on his territory. Whenever one of them did something bad, like cheated on a girlfriend, stole something from someone, or impregnated someone’s sister or best friend, they always sounded so guilty and ashamed. No matter how hard they tried to hide it, Jason always ended up hearing the underlying self-loathing in their voices. It was very similar to what he now detected in Michael’s voice.

“I want to know,” Jason insisted. What could Michael possibly have to feel ashamed of? If he hadn’t committed what Jason considered to be the worst crime of having frivolous, meaningless sex with someone he didn’t love, then what was there to feel bad about?

“I escaped from a sanitarium last year.” When Jason stared uncomprehendingly at Michael, the omega tried a different expression. “It’s an asylum for the —.”

“I know what a sanitarium is.” Jason rudely cut Michael off. There were many words that Jason did not know but sanitarium was not one of them. From as far back as Jason could remember, both kids and adults alike had teased and tormented him. They had called him ugly, deformed, monster, freak of nature... Jason hadn’t had a single friend growing up, but that hadn’t stopped him from creating his own imaginary companions. Happy, silly creatures that came to his home for lunch and playtime in the afternoon. Jason even gave them all names and reserved spots for them at the dinner table. But his mother eventually forbade him from cultivating that particular habit. She had warned him that it would only become a crutch when he grew older, that if he continued to speak to his ghosts and fairies that someone would have him committed to a sanitarium - the place where crazy people and violent murderers went. “You’re not crazy,” Jason defensively informed Michael. Jason would not have fallen in love with a crazy person. And Michael was far too skilled and intelligent to allow himself to be caught even if he had murdered someone before Crystal Lake. When Michael remained silent, Jason asked him another question. “How long were you in there for?”

“Fifteen years.”

“Fifteen years?!” Jason’s features clouded with confusion, then disbelief, and finally anger. He could feel the storm brewing inside of him - the fury that usually resulted in pulverized human corpses and blood splattered remains. “You’re barely twenty!”

“Twenty-two,” Michael calmly corrected him.

If Michael was now twenty-two, that meant that he had escaped from the mental institution at the age of twenty-one. Subtracting fifteen from twenty-one was not a complicated math equation. Jason was more than capable of doing it with relative ease, but he did it twice to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. When he came up with six for the second time, his anger only intensified. “You were locked up in the loony bin when you were _six years old_?!” His mother had loved calling asylums loony bins, among other things. Pamela Voorhees may have been a model parent but one of her faults had been using derogatory slang and prematurely passing judgment on other people. Unfortunately, Jason had inherited some of her less charming qualities along with her need to kill, the derogatory slang included.

“Yes.”

“NO!” Jason clutched Michael protectively in his arms, imaging what a little Michael at the age of six would have looked like. Tiny and precious with even more delicate features than he had now. Far too tiny to fit into one of those dreadful hospital gowns that Jason imagined the crazy people wore in such an institution. Could the physical restraints even be adjusted for a child so small? Or had Michael been able to slip his wrists and ankles free of them? No! It just wasn’t possible. Who would lock a little boy up in a prison where scary adults talked to themselves, screamed the night away, and tried to choke each other with the bed sheets? Jason’s upper lip thinned and curled up in a scowl, causing more of his sharp teeth to be revealed on the left side of his face. “Who would put my pretty little doll into such a place?”

Before Michael had the chance to reply, a distant rustle caused Jason’s entire body to stiffen. He abruptly raised his head and blocked out the alluring smell of Michael to concentrate on the environment beyond the cabin.

There it was again! There were tree branches being pushed in an easterly direction when the wind was blowing towards the west. The movement was advancing on the cabin, going from tree to tree at a steady pace. Most of the animals in the area were too small to make contact with those densely grouped branches at waist height. Even if something larger, like a bear or deer, had entered the area, neither animal would be so careful as to maneuver the branches in such a way that they did not swing back or snap loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Michael anxiously asked.

“You stay here.” Releasing Michael, Jason pushed him further back into the storage room, positioning him next to the altar. “Wait for me,” he ordered. If an intruder had breached the perimeter of his territory, Jason would deal with him or her alone. An omega in heat would just get in the way. Besides, he was uncertain of Michael’s fighting abilities. Sure, Michael had gotten two lucky shots in while Jason was distracted during their first encounter, but that meant nothing in a real fight. In a true death match, nobody would go easy on Michael because of the way he looked, regardless of how pretty he was.

“But—.”

“No!” Jason pulled his trusty hockey mask off of the shelf where he kept other hard objects, like potatoes and radishes. The mask was old and battered, but it was still intact and that was all that mattered. “Wait for me.” After he’d fixed the mask over his face he glanced at Michael through the eyeholes. The omega was keenly studying the mask but made no attempt to follow Jason when he exited the storage room. Jason shut the door behind him but did not obstruct it with anything. For one thing, the door didn’t have a lock. For another, positioning something in front of the door would only draw attention to it. If there was more than one intruder, Jason didn’t want them being drawn to the room where his two dearest treasures lay hidden - his mother and his chosen mate.

On his way out, Jason grabbed the rusty machete that he kept on display by the front window. Unlike the shiny kitchen knife that Michael had been brandishing, the machete was dull and filthy. Jason saw no reason in cleaning or polishing it because it was just going to get dirty again. Wiping the blood off after a kill might have prevented the blade from rusting so badly, but it was more practical to go hunting with a weapon that did not reflect the light.

Outside, the sky was streaked with a mixture of rich orange, pink, and yellow along the horizon - the beginning of a sunset. The late afternoon air was also chillier than it had been an hour and a half ago. There were no animal sounds. No birds chirping. No squirrels racing up the tree trunks and back down into the dried patches of fallen leaves. It was the total lack of activity that made Jason even more suspicious of what was lurking around his property. The rustling branches had stopped rustling, and the footsteps had stopped advancing. It was as if the intruder was aware of Jason’s presence and had decided to lay low to see what he would do next. No animal would behave in such a deliberate, cunning manner. Jason was dealing with another accursed human.

Slipping into the treed area, Jason put himself on equal ground with his prey. As he circled around the last known position of the intruder, he began to think. A bunch of horny kids would not venture so deep into the woods just to get laid, especially if they were not aware of a cabin existing this far out to begin with. Nor would a hunter creep up on an occupied cabin with malicious intent. This intruder was something different. An unidentifiable element that made Jason wary. Nothing had disturbed his sanctuary in many years. For someone to happen upon it on the same day that he’d brought Michael home...

_Michael_! Jason knew that he was slower than most humans when it came to his thought processes. He didn’t fully understand the social intricacies of human nature, relying on what he picked up from stalking his prey to update his knowledge of them. However, when it came to acting the part of hunter and predator, Jason had no trouble with relying on his natural instincts. The beast within Jason - the powerful force that dictated whom he killed and how - instantly made the connection between Michael’s presence and the intruder. Whoever was out there skulking about the outskirts of the cabin, they were after Jason’s pretty little doll. _No!_ Jason gripped the handle of his machete so hard he could feel the worn wooden handle creating grooves in his fingers. _My doll! My mate!_ Nobody was going to take Michael from him! Nobody was going to hurt his precious omega!

From somewhere upwind of him, Jason heard a softened click. He was very familiar with that sound. A gun was being armed. Moving swiftly now, Jason honed in on the location of that sound, closing in on it like a hawk with its talons spread. When he was almost on top of it, Jason raised his machete with both hands and lowered it with an almighty force. He barely registered the sight of a fair haired man clothed in a sage hunting jacket with a gun clutched in his hands, pointed in the wrong direction. Without hesitation, without remorse, Jason’s machete tore into the man’s right shoulder and ploughed straight through to the man’s opposite hip, where the blade exited with a sick sloshing sound. A blood curdling scream followed, the weapon discharged before dropping to the ground, and Jason stood above the prey he had cut in half with satisfaction. The death was not instant. Jason towered over the twitching remains of his victim, eyeing the man coldly as he convulsed and spilled blood and entrails all over the ground he lay on.

Thinking that the threat had been eliminated, Jason was surprised when he heard a twig snap a few meters north of his position. There was another one! If Jason didn’t catch him...

“What the fuck?!”

Jason whirled around, trying to track the second man who was on the verge of escaping. Why was he shouting? The fool had just given up his position. All Jason would need to do now was pin him down and angrily chop him up.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

Before Jason had the chance to take a step in the other man’s direction, he saw a blur of midnight blue and grey - colors that were far too conspicuous to blend in with the surrounding foliage. He nearly choked on his own saliva when he saw the second intruder slash out at Michael with a jagged hunting knife. Where had Michael come from? How had he managed to get ahead of Jason without making a sound?

With a speed that was so fast he seemed to not move at all, Michael caught the man’s forearm with his left hand and fought to gain control of that knife. Almost instantaneously, Michael’s right hand shot out to grip the man by his throat. Closing his fingers with bruising strength around that thick column of bone and flesh, Michael slammed the man back into the nearest tree.

Not giving a damn about the noise he was making, Jason stomped towards the two struggling men, his machete dripping blood on the ground and random plants along the way. He saw the tanned man’s expression tighten resolutely as that wicked blade began to inch closer towards Michael’s chest. In response to the danger, Michael cocked his head in a gesture of curiosity. That creepy, expressionless mask that he was wearing revealed no fear or any other type of weak emotions. It revealed nothing at all, which is probably why Michael wore it. The tanned man, who was dressed similarly to the one Jason had cut down, was now using his other hand to try and pry Michael’s fingers off of his throat. Although the intruder was bigger than Michael and a lot more solid, he was having no luck in overpowering the flustered omega.

_Hot_. Jason clenched his jaw and hung back, not wanting to interfere in Michael’s fight, but also feeling very concerned with the way his omega was heating up. Something peculiar was happening with Michael, something that Jason was somewhat familiar with. The power with which Michael was fighting was not entirely his own. There was a darkness being channeled into him, urging him to kill. The hairs on Jason’s arms bristled as he sensed that dark power intensify. Not a second later, Michael twisted the knife in the opposite direction and willed that thick blade up into the intruder’s rib cage. Seemingly wanting to get the kill over with, Michael snapped the man’s neck immediately afterwards. But he didn’t let go or make any effort to drop the man to the ground. Instead, he held on, his hands still on the man’s throat and the handle of that jagged knife. Both were trembling. _Too hot._

“Michael.” Jason cautiously approached from an angle where Michael could see him. “He’s dead.”

Still Michael did not release his kill. If anything, the fingers on the man’s throat dug in deeper, and the knife twisted in harder.

“It’s okay. You can let go.” Placing his much larger hand over Michael’s, Jason carefully removed it from the dead man’s throat, one finger at a time. It wasn’t easy because Michael had one hell of a grip and seemed to be in a trance. “Fierce little doll,” Jason praised, hoping that might get through to him. He sighed with relief when Michael abruptly released his prey, letting the dead body crumple to the ground. That relief turned to alarm when Michael suddenly collapsed to his hands and knees right next to the sightless corpse. “Michael!” Jason stabbed his machete into the ground and crouched down beside his omega. Grabbing the end of that creepy mask, he pulled it up and off of Michael’s head. That was when he heard how hard Michael was breathing. But that wasn’t all. Michael’s light blue eyes were darkening to a shade similar to his sweater, and he was now hot to the touch. Whatever power Michael had accessed to defeat his enemy seemed to be responsible for accelerating his heat cycle. But it was like no heat that Jason had ever witnessed before in nature. He hadn’t been sure before, but he was sure now. If he didn’t do something to alleviate the discomfort Michael was in, the symptoms of that overwhelming heat would kill the omega. The romantic dinner that Jason had prepared would have to wait. There was no more time.

When Michael began to moan in pain, Jason quickly wrapped his arms around him. Then, not bothering to ask for permission, he easily lifted his pretty little doll into his arms. Michael did nothing to protest, allowing himself to be carried back to the cabin as Jason fretted over him. As much as Jason wanted Michael, as much as he knew he would enjoy claiming the omega as his own, he knew that something was very wrong with the destructive nature of his mate’s hormones. Just like he knew that it wasn’t right to stick a defenceless little boy into a sanitarium, nor was it a coincidence that two armed men had appeared on Jason’s property on the same day that he had returned with Michael. Unfortunately, he had to put his anger and all his suspicions aside for the next few hours. He would be spending that time soothing and pleasuring his beautiful mate. The rest he would worry about much later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No disrespect was intended towards institutions for the mentally ill while writing this chapter. Crystal Lake is a very backwards community and Jason is lacking the proper education necessary for understanding what a sanitarium is for. And Smith’s Grove is anything but a reputable institution to begin with.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is just a friendly reminder that this fic has an explicit warning for a reason.**
> 
> *** An extremely amateurish drawing was added to the end of this chapter. ***

Michael lay on the bear rug, where Jason had left him, clenching fistfuls of that soft ebony fur in his hands and grinding his bare heels into the bear’s head. Why was the bear’s head so firm while the rest of the rug was level and flat? Had Jason left the skull inside for added effect? There wasn’t still brain matter inside, was there? Just the thought of that head containing rotting brains made Michael feel even queasier. He moaned in misery, unable to block out the pain, fever, dizziness and nausea at the same time. His entire body was revolting against him and he had no idea how to stop it.

Turning his head to the side, Michael tracked Jason’s movements through the kitchen, feverishly wondering what the man was up to. As soon as Jason had deposited Michael onto the rug and freed his feet from those stifling boots, Jason had fled into the kitchen. What was he doing in there? Didn’t he know how hot Michael was? He wasn’t preparing dinner, was he? Michael was no longer hungry. At least not in that way. He didn’t think he could sit up, much less force himself to chew and swallow whatever was waiting for him inside that large pot by the fireplace.

Michael located Jason over by the sink, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his hands with a soapy brush. Why was he obsessing over the state of his hands? Jason didn’t strike Michael as someone who regularly bathed or kept his hands clean. Which wasn’t to say that Jason was filthy or that he smelled really bad. It was just that he prioritized other things like hunting and maintaining his land over bathing and changing his clothes. He probably only chose to stick himself in the shower when he wasn’t busy with other things. Was he washing his hands because he didn’t want to touch Michael until they were clean? That was considerate. And completely unlike Dave - one of Michael’s psychiatric inmates - who had grabbed onto Michael and shoved him into the wall of the dining room _after_ handling the garbage one evening.

Outside the sky was becoming quite gloomy although not in a morbid Halloween way. Rather, it was miserable and dreary, sucking all the natural light out of Jason’s modestly lit cabin. If it hadn’t been for the churning flames in the fireplace, Michael doubted that they would have been able to see each other very well in the dimness. While there was a pale overhead light in the kitchen, Jason had either forgotten or decided not to bother installing one in the living room.

A sharp flash of light from somewhere beyond the rear of the cabin temporarily lit up Jason’s open concept living space. Shortly after, the inconsiderate boom of thunder shook the room. Then the sky opened up and it began to rain - hard.

 _There goes Halloween_ , Michael thought. That sort of heavy rain wouldn’t let up for hours. By the time Mother Nature was done with Crystal Lake, it would be a washed out, soggy mess. Jack O’lanterns would become drenched and the candles inside them would drown. Any paper or cardboard decorations left on the porch would become saturated with water, warp and tear. Even the bright LED orange and black Halloween lights would have a hard time cutting through the fog and onslaught of rain. And forget trick-or-treaters. Only a truly demented individual would brave such an awful night for a half-empty bag of lousy candy.

“Jason...,” Michael moaned, hating how pitiful he sounded but not faring well against the pain and depressing loss of Halloween Night.

Responding automatically to his name being called, Jason shook his hands off and wiped them dry on a small rag by the sink. Then he came thundering over to the bear rug. Tugging off his boots, he dropped to his hands and knees beside Michael. A second ago his face had been dark with worry, but now it was aglow with pride and happiness. “You know my name,” Jason said happily as he stroked his hand over Michael’s face.

“Of course I know your name.” Michael gave Jason a peculiar look, which gave way to a contented sigh when Jason began to stroke his brow with one large thumb. It was a soothing gesture and seemed to reduce the pain somewhat.

“You never said it before,” Jason pointed out with amusement. “My pretty little doll is very stubborn.”

Hadn’t he spoken Jason’s name before? Perhaps not. It didn’t surprise Michael, really, because he wasn’t in the habit of referring to people by name. Seeing how elated Jason was to hear his name being called caused Michael to feel guilty. He liked Jason... No, he _really_ liked Jason. There were few people in his life that he could claim to have liked, even a little bit. But the way he felt about Jason... Somehow the word ‘like’ seemed insufficient, but what else was there? He ought to make more of an effort to show Jason how much he was liked. It was only fair considering the lengths Jason was going to in order to provide and care for him. Nobody had ever cooked for Michael before. Nobody had ever come to comfort him when he was feeling alone, sick or scared. Jason, on the other hand, seemed willing to do just about anything to make him happy. Jason had even carved the pumpkin and stuck a candle in it to please him. The fact that the face on the Jack O’lantern Jason had created was embarrassingly simple - something that a kindergartener might have come up with - made the gesture even sweeter. Jason was all about giving and positivity. Although Michael was completely unfamiliar with such personality traits, he couldn’t deny that he found them appealing. Especially if they were associated with Jason.

Still affectionately stroking Michael’s face, Jason cheerfully withdrew a handful of packets from his right pocket and held them up for Michael to see. “Which one do you want?”

 _Condoms_! Jason was showing off a wide selection of condoms with the occasional pack of single-use lube tucked in between. Which one did Michael want?! What was the difference? How did one go about selecting a condom? What purpose did it serve? And who was going to wear it? Now that he was faced with the terrifying concept of having sex for the first time - something that he never imagined he could ever want, never mind actually be doing - Michael realized that he knew absolutely nothing about the act. Catching the odd couple as they were finishing what they were doing in bed had revealed no helpful hints on what to expect from such an intimate coupling. Nor had occasionally overhearing one of the nurses and doctors - or patients - going at it while he’d been at Smith’s Grove.

Noticing Michael’s confusion, Jason shrugged and picked one at random. “The mate on the bottom is happier when the top uses a condom,” he carefully explained as he ripped the packet open.

Feeling both uncomfortable and nervous, Michael forced himself to ask the relevant question. “What is it for?” There hadn’t been any sex-ed classes in Smith’s Grove. And, come to think of it, none of Michael’s kills had bothered to use a condom. Oh, there had been unused packets lying around, perhaps in case they were needed, but nobody ever opened them. The only reason why Michael knew that it was meant for a male was because of the obvious diagram on a box of condoms illustrating how to wear it.

Having just removed the condom from the packet, Jason glanced down at Michael, his misshapen facial features tightening with concentration. “I don’t know.”

Michael tensed up and nearly bolted right then and there. “You don’t know?”

“But I know how to use it.”

“You shouldn’t be using it if you don’t know what it’s for,” Michael protested in rising irritation.

Michael’s words seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Jason was already stripping down, determined to put on that condom. Michael wasn’t given any time to adjust to what he was seeing as Jason removed one article of clothing after another, like a giant happy snake shedding its skin. The big man had no concept of grace because he just yanked his shirt over his head, tossed it behind him, and hastily unzipped his pants. Next went the undershirt, followed by his socks that were full of holes. As soon as Jason started to worm his way out of his pants, Michael took a sharp intake of breath. Jason was wearing nothing underneath his pants. With no warning, Michael was suddenly exposed to Jason’s insanely large manhood. It was already fully erect and the veins lining it engorged with blood. While Jason’s face was layered with drooping skin, his eyes sunken, his nose bulbous, and the abnormal cranial bulges in his skull not at all symmetrical - deformities that did not negatively affect Michael in any way - there was nothing wrong with his male genitalia. _Unless_ something that large really wasn’t normal. Michael had no idea of knowing one way or the other. He just knew that it looked really intimidating, especially considering what Jason intended to do with it.

The rest of Jason’s body was completely unlike Michael’s. While Michael’s skin was close to flawless, Jason was covered in scars from head to toe. There were slash marks on his arms, legs and torso, a large healed gash on his left shin that might have been caused from a protruding bone that had been popped back in, lacerations that were sealed up but still left grooves, and discolored patches of skin that could have been from anything. It looked like Jason had gone off to war and put a lot of mileage on his brutalized body.

Kneeling on the bear rug, Jason retrieved the packet he had opened. “On you go,” he excitedly said to the condom as he pulled it over his swollen cockhead.

Michael forced himself to look up and away from what Jason was doing. Instead, he concentrated on Jason’s very tall and solid body, admiring the man’s incredibly muscular physique. The battle scars just made him seem all the more impressive. A man like that could crush someone of Michael’s size. Michael had seen him slice through bone, tissue and organs as if he were slicing cold cuts. Knowing that Jason would never aim that aggression at him, that he would never hurt him, made Michael feel strangely warm inside.

“Uh oh...”

Michael looked back at Jason’s crotch to see that the man’s cock was still uncovered. Held in either of Jason’s hands was a tiny piece of the torn condom. Was that supposed to happen?

“It wouldn’t fit,” Jason exclaimed in dismay. Picking up the open packet, he showed it to Michael. “It was the largest one.”

Was this supposed to be comical? Here Michael was suffering from abnormal hormonal issues, on the verge of screaming he wanted to be touched _that_ badly, and Jason was fooling around with latex finger puppets?!

“Maybe we don’t need it.”

So that was it then? Michael braced himself when Jason straddled his hips, that very large erection springing up and down with the movement. He averted his eyes again, staring up at the ceiling and hoping that it would be over soon. He would just let Jason do whatever was necessary to put an end to the suffering he was feeling, at which point they could go back to the comfortable way they had been interacting before.

“Don’t be scared,” Jason said gently, beginning to pet Michael’s hair. “I won’t hurt you.”

Michael didn’t even bother to deny that he was scared because he was trembling all over and breathing far too quickly.

“Pretty little doll,” Jason murmured. He was still making no effort to remove Michael’s clothing. “My beautiful Michael.”

Michael looked up at Jason, startled to hear the depth of emotion the man poured into that compliment. Jason smiled crookedly down at Michael, his fingers twirling around in Michael’s thick locks of hair like miniature curling irons.

“All animals do this,” Jason said reassuringly. “It’s natural.” Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to Michael’s.

Michael allowed Jason to kiss him because the first two kisses had been really nice. But this time the instant Jason’s tongue slipped into his mouth, a desperate moan escaped Michael. This was not like the other two times they had kissed. Jason was not patiently exploring him or toying with him. This time the pressure of Jason’s lips was much firmer, and his tongue more demanding, urging Michael to lose himself to the kiss. A moment later, Jason’s hands found Michael’s where they were still clawing up the bear rug. Jason wove his thick strong fingers together with Michael’s slender ones, giving Michael something to grip when the sensation of being kissed threatened to overwhelm him.

Jason continued to kiss Michael thoroughly, his tongue slipping and sliding against Michael’s in a way that was not at all playful. The kiss simultaneously cooled the fire that had been burning through Michael’s veins while igniting a different kind of fire in his belly and lower still. Michael tried to shift a bit to stop the foreign reaction in between his legs - the sensation of arousal that he had seen others enjoy but had never dreamt of experiencing himself. He had always considered acts of intimacy to be weak and a frivolous waste of energy. Whenever two people engaged in such an act, they let their guard down. They allowed themselves to be preyed upon and destroyed, giving their lives for that one brief moment of ecstasy. Michael had never thought that he would succumb to the uncontrollable need to be touched by another. The darkness had never allowed him to feel anything other than satisfaction after a kill. It had nullified almost every other emotion... Or had it? Perhaps the darkness hadn’t wiped out the parts of Michael that made him human. Maybe those human desires and emotions had just remained dormant until now, suppressed by the darkness itself. Because the darkness was not currently occupying Michael, allowing all those trapped desires and emotions to escape. But how could that be? It was Halloween night - the night when the darkness was at its strongest. It was the one night of the year when Michael could not resist the urge to stalk and murder his fellow man. Being trapped in a locked room at Smith’s Grove had prevented many more deaths over the years, but the lure of Halloween night - the desire to _kill_ \- had never left Michael. So where was the darkness now?

The chilly night air suddenly brushed over Michael’s abdomen and then his chest. Jason was pushing up his sweater. Jason’s palm stroked over Michael’s chest, causing him to whimper when it lightly skimmed over his nipples. Apparently excited by the noise Michael had made, Jason kissed him harder and rubbed at his left nipple with one of his dry fingers. In response, Michael gripped Jason’s hands tightly and squirmed beneath him. Jason allowed it, his finger having moved onto Michael’s right nipple. He carefully scraped at it with his fingernail until it was just as taut as the left. Then he pinched it tightly between his finger and thumb. Michael gasped and moaned, the sound muffled by the tongue in his mouth and the lips that were clamped onto his own. It was as if Jason was reminding him who was in control. Jason was the alpha and Michael would soon become his omega. Was Michael okay with that?

When Jason wetly ended the kiss to nuzzle Michael’s ear and whisper, “Sexy little doll,” Michael knew that he was more than okay with becoming Jason’s omega. He _wanted_ Jason to claim him. Nothing had ever made him feel more alive than being kissed and touched by this amazing man. This powerful yet gentle warrior. “Clothing off,” Jason commanded as he closed his fists on the bottom of Michael’s sweater. With a little cooperation from Michael, he got it off. Then his hands were on Michael’s waist, fumbling with the cord that held those track pants up. “Stupid cord,” Jason cursed, displaying his impatience for perhaps the first time since Michael had met him. Michael had doubled knotted the cord, making it difficult to undo. After a few unsuccessful attempts to loosen it, Jason snapped it between his hands so that he could ease the pants down Michael’s legs. Then Jason sat back and just admired Michael.

By that time, Michael was breathing hard from excitement instead of pain. He watched Jason with anticipation, wondering what his powerful mate would do next.

Jason’s mouth hung open rather obscenely as he looked Michael over. However, his face abruptly clouded over and his mouth clamped shut as he visually inspected Michael a second and then a third time. He picked up Michael’s right arm by the wrist, holding it up so that he could see it better by the firelight. “What is this?” Although Michael knew the scar that Jason was referring to, he chose not to reply. “And this?” Now his fingers were on Michael’s right thigh, carefully tracing the faint scratch marks which were all that was left of that first night Noah had attacked him. When Michael didn’t answer, Jason gripped him gently, but firmly, by the jaw. Suddenly the friendly giant’s face was anything but. There was a murderous rage lurking behind those hazel eyes - a rage capable of ripping the flesh from a living man’s bones. “ _Nobody_ hurts what is mine,” Jason growled angrily. “And _you_ are _mine_.”

“It was back at the sanitarium,” Michael found himself saying, unable to withhold the information from Jason. “I dealt with him...”

“Is he dead?”

Michael opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. He couldn’t lie to Jason. “No. He got away.”

“Then I will kill him,” Jason said matter-of-factly. “I will tear his arms from his body and feed them back to him. Then I will rip his head off and crush it beneath my feet.

As tempting as it was to imagine such a fate for Noah, Michael couldn’t help but feel the pain increasing in his head again now that Jason was no longer touching him in a romantic manner. He was about to say something to try and distract Jason, to draw his attention back to where he needed it, but Jason had another question for him first.

“Why are these the only scars you have?”

That was a really good question. One that Michael might not have minded answering later on. “I don’t know... The rest seem to heal.” Michael shared his own theory with Jason, hoping that it would be enough to end this uncomfortable conversation. “Maybe those left scars because they hurt the most.” But by hurt he wasn’t referring to physical pain. More like fear, disgust and trauma.

Taking a deep breath, Jason held it before noisily exhaling through his uneven teeth. “You are in pain again,” he said knowingly, moving his hands down Michael’s body in the attempt to restore the mood. One of his hands lingered on Michael’s chest while the other delved into the curly brown hairs leading to Michael’s stiffening cock. Jason stroked the hairs while watching Michael’s face become more flustered. “I can pet you here,” he said in amazement. It was at that point that Michael realized why Jason was so excited. Although extremely large and built like a wild bull, as well as packing quite a lot of testosterone, Jason was hairless. There wasn’t a single hair on his head, nor were there any hairs above or around his crotch. Whatever had caused Jason’s deformities had also deprived him of human hair. Either that or the illness had resulted in the eventual loss of hair.

The familiar way that Jason was touching him was making it really difficult to think straight. All sensation was now directed to that one spot where Jason’s large, warm hand lay. It made Michael feel unnervingly vulnerable while at the same time tense with anticipation. Having grown up in a cold, sterile environment where he was always under observation, Michael was unaccustomed to having an erection. He didn’t know what spurred it or how to react to it. He hadn’t found any of his ‘inmates’ attractive, nor had he ever considered touching himself. If he had been caught, it would have implied conscious awareness on his behalf and put an end to his charade. But now that Jason’s hands were on him, Michael decided that this was something that he could never give up. The weight of Jason’s hand on his pelvis as the man toyed with the pubic hair between his legs felt good. And watching Jason’s eyes darken with longing as he gazed lovingly at Michael’s face was enough to take Michael’s breath away.

“My pretty little doll is more colorful now,” Jason said, probably referring to the warmth in Michael’s cheeks, nose and ears. But, apparently, he was also talking about something else.

When Jason’s hand closed loosely around Michael’s cock, Michael gasped wordlessly in disbelief. How could a simple touch feel so good? ‘Good’ was not at all how Michael would have described the feeling. More like sensationally mind-blowing.

“You like this?” Jason asked with just a twinge of smugness in his voice.

“ _Yes_!” Michael declared, instinctively arching up and into Jason’s fist.

“Good.” Jason went about slowly stroking up and down, his thumb occasionally circling the head. He watched Michael intently, seeming to enjoy the moment when Michael sank back into the bear rug, his eyes tightly shut as he came with a breathless cry.

Michael lay there with his legs splayed and his chest rising and falling, struggling to catch his breath, while Jason waited for him. Was that it then? Although wonderful, Michael couldn’t help but feel disappointed by how short the act had been. Wasn’t there more? There had to be because the pain had not completely disappeared and he still craved intimacy. Jason was still fully erect - painfully so. Wasn’t the alpha supposed to penetrate the omega? Just the thought of Jason doing such a thing to him... If Michael had been capable of it, he would have gotten hard again.

“You will last longer next time,” Jason calmly informed him as he wiped off his hand on his discarded shirt. He didn’t ask if it was Michael’s first time. He obviously already knew.

When Jason pressed down onto him, licking his throat while rubbing that monstrous erection against his thigh, Michael moaned loudly. Jason’s member was moist and leaking precum, and his mouth was like a furnace on Michael’s neck. Michael struggled to maintain control of his body but ultimately failed when Jason bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Michael felt Jason’s teeth clamp down on his skin, the pain intense for a second as they sank in deep enough to draw blood. Then Jason released him, licking the wound apologetically while Michael lay there panting and feeling lightheaded.

“Mine,” Jason reminded Michael, his hands now stroking a path down Michael’s torso.

“Yours,” Michael murmured in response.

Definitely pleased with Michael’s submission, Jason began to kiss his way down Michael’s throat. He paused to suck on Michael’s collarbone and then licked a path down Michael’s breastbone. Finally, he kissed his way over to Michael’s left nipple, sealed his lips over it, and began to suck on it - hard.

“ _Jason! Hnnn_!” Getting electrocuted probably wouldn’t have stirred such a reaction in Michael. He struggled, at first shoving at Jason’s face in order to get him off, but then pulling him closer when he realized that this also felt good. Just several levels higher than anything he could have previously handled. Michael squirmed beneath Jason, his fingers digging into the much larger man’s slightly hunched back. He whimpered when Jason began to softly lick his swollen nipple, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it until it was so sensitive it hurt. Then Jason moved onto the opposite nipple, intent on giving it just as much attention.

Not giving Michael any time to consider what he was doing, Jason began to kiss his way downwards. He dragged his lips down Michael’s body, licking and nipping him every so often. Reaching the nest of hairs at Michael’s pelvis, Jason nuzzled them with his nose and mouth, inhaling Michael’s scent before kissing him there, too.

“ _Mmph_...” Michael tried to swallow the sounds of his pleasure for fear that they might overwhelm him. But Jason would not allow it.

Jason pushed two of his fingers into Michael’s mouth, preventing him from muffling anymore of the noises he’d been on the verge of making. “I want to hear you,” Jason insisted from where he was kissing the inside of Michael’s right thigh. He was very gentle there, being careful not to do anything to remind Michael of the unpleasant scar.

The most Michael could do was close his lips on Jason’s fingers and continue to bask in the attention. More kisses followed, moving up again, and then Jason was pushing Michael’s legs apart and sliding his other hand underneath Michael’s backside. Michael couldn’t ask what Jason was about to do because of those fingers in his mouth - the ones that were seeking out his tongue. But after Jason had created the proper leverage, Michael discovered what the big man had in mind.

“ _Ahhh! Jason... w-wait._ ” Michael clamped his thighs on either side of Jason’s head, trying to keep the man’s greedy tongue from lapping at him _down there_. But Jason wouldn’t be deterred. He endured the pressure from Michael’s strong thighs, the tip of his tongue gliding down to Michael’s untouched entrance. Once he located the tight ring of muscle, Jason set to work lathing it up with his saliva before nudging his way inside. “ _Nngh_!” Michael groaned, the sensation of being pressed open like that unbelievably exciting. Down between his legs, Jason made a deep sound of approval that resonated in his chest. Then his tongue delved in deeper, coaxing Michael to relax and enjoy what was being done to him. Jason continued to pleasure him with his tongue, withdrawing his fingers from Michael’s mouth. One of those fingers soon found its way to Michael’s tiny opening and began to press into it. It would have felt great if not for the dry friction and size of Jason’s finger.

Coming up for air, Jason smiled tenderly at Michael. He ripped open one of the packets of lube and coated the fingers on his right hand in it. “I know what this is for,” he said triumphantly before slipping his index finger into Michael.

Michael couldn’t answer. He was too busy moaning with delirious pleasure. Everything that Jason had done to him so far had felt amazing. But this... being touched _there_ was the best of all.

Jason slowly eased a slippery finger into Michael, carefully watching his face for any sign of discomfort. For such a dangerous murderer, Jason was extremely considerate and patient. “You’re such a good omega, my pretty little doll,” Jason praised him. To reward Michael for being good, Jason hooked his finger into Michael’s sweet spot. When Michael cried out and then whimpered with need, Jason pressed his finger in more firmly. As he added another finger, he leaned down to briefly kiss Michael. Then he began to scissor his fingers apart, stretching Michael slowly but thoroughly. “I think it should fit now,” he said after he’d stretched Michael to the point where it was sore. Probably thinking that he’d done a good enough job, he slid his fingers out of Michael, leaving him feeling empty inside.

Taking his own cock into his hand, Jason emptied a second packet of lube onto it and messily slathered it from tip to base. Judging by the way his face screwed up and his legs began to tremble, he was very close to losing control.

Michael tensed up for a moment when Jason began to rub that proud cockhead against his tiny opening. It was so big and hard that Michael wondered if he could accommodate it. He tried to even out his breathing when Jason lifted both his legs and pushed them towards his chest, opening him up further. A brief flash of pain followed, and the sensation of being stretched nearly past the point of what he could tolerate. Before he could panic, Jason began to caress his cheek, silently reassuring him that this was completely natural. The pain would come first, but the pleasure would soon follow. And it did. The sheer joy of Jason sliding into him and filling him so intimately wrung more moans out of Michael. Why had he never sought out this pleasure before? Most likely because no one else would have made him feel the same way Jason did. No one was comparable to Jason. Michael wanted no one but Jason. He had thought that Jason’s size would have caused him discomfort, but it was the exact opposite. It was because of how big Jason was that Michael felt like every nerve ending inside of him was being rubbed raw, in a good way. A _very_ good way.

Michael groaned loudly when Jason penetrated him deeply enough to hit that spot that caused his inner muscles to clench and his toes to curl. Above him, Jason licked the sweat from his lips and grunted as he pulled out and thrust back in. He looked magnificent like that with his hard muscles rippling and his breath coming out in short bursts. So Michael was not the only one immensely enjoying the experience.

For an indeterminate length of time, Jason continued to make love to Michael. He withdrew a little bit but possessively thrust back in again, acting as if he were afraid of losing him. To draw Jason in deeper and hold him there, Michael wrapped his legs tightly around Jason’s waist. From there, the angle changed and Michael found himself being so powerfully stroked inside that it was almost too much. What was even more astonishing was that Michael himself was becoming hard again from all the stimulation. Gradually, Jason sped up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into Michael, the lube beginning to wear thin.

“Too soon,” Jason complained as he thrust in one last time and then gave a loud, drawn out groan.

Suddenly Michael felt _very_ hot inside. Hot and wet. It was like his passage was being filled with something inexplicably incredible. It took a moment for Michael to realize that Jason had cum inside of him and was still not finished. That had never occurred to Michael - the idea that Jason would want to do that, or that he himself would find it even more arousing. If he hadn’t felt like he fully belonged to Jason before, he sure did now. What was even better was that Michael no longer felt any sort of pain or discomfort. Whatever had been wrong with him was now resolved.

“Beautiful Michael,” Jason sighed as he sank onto his knees and elbows, still buried deep inside Michael. “ _My_ Michael.”

Michael took a moment to catch his breath. His entire body was tingling and sensitive. If Jason pulled out, Michael thought the movement would push him over the edge again. Once he had regained his voice, he lured Jason closer again. “Is it okay to kiss after...?”

Jason’s entire face lit up upon hearing that. Embracing Michael tightly in his arms, but still not withdrawing from him, he kissed Michael passionately. And in return, Michael desperately kissed him back.

This is my 2nd attempt at drawing Jason/Michael. I kind of have no idea what I’m doing... but I think that it’s a bit better than the first one. 😅


	13. Chapter 13

After smiling nonstop for several long minutes, Jason’s face began to hurt. He was filled with so much happiness it felt like his heart might burst through his chest. What he had done to Michael... No, what they had done _together_ felt so right and magical that Jason thought he might never come down from such a natural high. And now here Michael was, snuggling up close to Jason’s left side without needing to be coaxed. Jason’s beautiful mate had a wooden bowl in one hand and a matching spoon in the other - both the result of Jason’s woodworking hobby - and was enjoying his dinner. The bowl was a little on the square side, and the spoon wasn’t scooped out as deeply as it could have been, but those were intentional flaws. Jason didn’t care for round bowls, and he found eating with fat spoons annoying. That was why he had eventually thrown out the first set of ugly dishes and cutlery that he’d ‘collected’ from a summer house in the area.

Pressing closer against Jason’s side, Michael stiffly repositioned his legs under the blanket before dipping the spoon back into his stew. Michael’s features were very relaxed and there was a healthy glow to his normally porcelain white skin. But what Jason liked the most about Michael after their very intense lovemaking was the peaceful curve of his pretty little doll’s mouth. It wasn’t a goofy smile like what Jason was having trouble conquering, and it wasn’t as loose and free as the smiles the pot smoking delinquents that polluted the woods wore on their faces. But it was a sweet smile - a _genuine_ smile.

“Are you better now?” Jason asked as he watched Michael savor a mouthful of rabbit stew. It was a very nourishing stew filled with carrots, turnips, potatoes, mushrooms, spices, and of course the rabbit. Luckily the rabbit had been plump instead of scrawny. There was nothing worse than having to make stew with a meatless rabbit.

“I’m fine, Jason,” Michael reassured him.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I hurt you...”

“On purpose?” Michael asked without looking up from his stew.

“No! Never!” Jason replied frantically.

“Then I’m not mad at you.”

Relieved to hear that Michael really wasn’t upset with him, Jason brought his own bowl up to his face and began to shovel the contents of it into his mouth. Between mouthfuls, he glanced over at the wet spot slicking the fur of the bear rug down on the far corner. Cleaning the sticky remnants of their lovemaking off the rug had not been fun, but Jason was more concerned about the injury he had accidentally caused Michael. When he had taken a damp cloth to Michael to clean him up, Michael had flinched and made a sound of pain. And the cloth had come away streaked with blood. Knowing that Michael would heal quickly did not make Jason feel any better. He would have to be more careful with his precious mate in the future. That meant having the common sense to reapply the lube _before_ it rubbed off. He should have pulled out of Michael a lot sooner in order to do so, but he had been very reluctant to withdraw from that tight heat. If Jason were to be perfectly honest with himself, he had also been overcome with the instinctive urge to do what all animals in the wild did - to impregnate his mate. Seeing that graceful body lying beneath him, with those crystal blue eyes glistening with emotion and those soft lips parted as Michael gasped and moaned, had just about ruined Jason. He had temporarily lost himself in a fantasy world where he imagined everything to be perfect and without consequence. And what could be more perfect than starting a family with his beloved Michael? But now he realized how absurd his actions and desires had been. Michael was a man and incapable of carrying a child, which was just as well because children did not belong in Jason’s world. They were weak, helpless creatures whose only purpose was to burden and inconvenience their parents.

“Finished already?” Jason was pleasantly surprised when Michael held out his bowl for a refill.

“It’s really delicious,” Michael said enthusiastically. “The best I’ve ever had, in fact.”

Listening to Michael compliment the rabbit stew made Jason blush with pride. “It’s the best rabbit stew you’ve ever had?” He put down his own bowl and spoon in order to refill Michael’s dish.

“It’s the best _meal_ I’ve ever had,” Michael corrected him. “I’ve never had rabbit stew before.”

Now Jason was certain that his face might crack if he smiled anymore. What alpha wouldn’t be ecstatic upon hearing that they were an excellent provider and chef? It was one thing to just feed one’s mate, but quite another to serve up something palatable that warranted seconds. “Oh, no more rabbit.” Jason dropped an empty thigh bone back into the pot. Instead, he scooped up a few more vegetables with the ladle before filling Michael’s bowl to the brim again. Then he handed the bowl back and helped himself to what was left.

Together they ate in companionable silence. The heavy rain battering against the windows outside proved to be a rather drowsy form of entertainment. They could see nothing past that persistent onslaught of rain. Anyway, night had fallen sometime during their post-sex cuddling session, so there was probably nothing to see.

Once Jason was finished gulping down his meal, he wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand, which earned him a look of disapproval from Michael. “What?” It wasn’t like he had made the blanket they were sharing dirty.

“You could use a napkin,” Michael suggested.

“I don’t have any napkins.”

“Then one of the cloths over by the sink.”

“They’re all the way over there,” Jason grumbled. He was comfortable on the rug next to Michael and he was not moving. “You’re too clean,” he muttered when Michael carefully placed his empty bowl down by the fireplace. The younger man’s mouth and hands were clean since he had expertly drained the last of the stew from the bowl with his spoon. Jason, on the other hand, had drunk directly from the bowl in a sloppy manner. It was just faster that way. Nobody had ever told him that his way of eating was a little uncouth and noisy. But judging from the look on Michael’s face, that’s exactly what it was.

Placing his bowl down beside Michael’s, instead of shoving it across the floor as he usually did, Jason wrapped both arms around his slender lover and drew him into a tight embrace. That thick brown hair of Michael’s was like a mussed up possum. In some places it was wavy and in others curly, but it was soft all the same. Sighing blissfully, Jason rubbed his cheek against those thick locks and contemplated the rest of his life. He would never wake up alone ever again. Michael would be forever beside him, whether it be in the bed or on the bear rug. He would hunt twice as often and plant many more vegetables in the garden to sustain two people instead of one, although he didn’t think that Michael required too much to keep him going. The pretty omega had a healthy appetite, but he couldn’t possibly eat anywhere near as much as Jason did on a daily basis.

There were enough toiletries to last a good long while. Things like toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, and all the sample size bath products. If they started to run out, Jason would just go off to collect more. They apparently had no use for those condoms, which was a relief because Jason only had about twenty or thirty on hand. They were stupid things, those condoms. Too tight and clingy to be comfortable, even if they didn’t snap in half when trying to pull them on. Towels were in abundance since Jason prioritized them after liquidating a cabin or summer home of its occupants. They were good for drying off with after a shower or getting caught in a torrential downpour. And they were also handy for wrapping things with - things like gashes in the arms or legs, or cranial wounds. Then there were the leaks in the roof. Jason used the older, shabbier towels to mop up the puddles and jam into any gaps that the wind created. What he really needed was a new roof, but that would require new materials and a hell of a lot of hard work.

“Can you hunt?” Jason asked as he nuzzled Michael’s cheek. To his surprise, Michael turned his head to kiss Jason on the jaw. Was his willful little doll completely tamed now? After Jason had finished inside of Michael, the omega had begun to act very submissive towards him. There were no more attempts at stabbing or biting him, and that signature unhappy frown of Michael’s had yet to resurface. What Jason now had in his arms was a loyal mate who couldn’t get close enough to him and would probably do anything Jason told him to do.

“You saw me hunt,” Michael gently reminded Jason.

That was true. Tracking down and killing humans was also a form of hunting. “I mean animals. Food.”

“Like rabbits?” Michael uncomfortably asked. “How do you hunt rabbits?”

Rabbits were too quick and wily to go chasing after with nothing but a knife. Even if you happened upon one, it would just burrow into a hole somewhere or dart into thick bushes where a large man could not follow. Jason’s very first rabbit - the one whose foot still hung on the living room wall - had taunted and evaded him for days before he finally caught and killed it. That was a long time ago, back when he hadn’t been as experienced or wise. “I set traps for rabbits. It’s a waste of time to hunt them. I mean wild boars and deer.”

“No...” Michael sounded unsure and Jason didn’t blame him. Hunting animals was not the same as hunting humans. At least not for Jason.

“Can you fish?”

There was a long pause, as if Michael were imagining himself fishing for the first time. Then came a shake of the head followed by, “No.”

“Can you use a hammer?” When Michael just gave him a bewildered look from over his shoulder, Jason sighed. Twenty-two was young, _very_ young. Most people that young were either still in school or struggling with a part-time job, or so Jason had heard. The current generation had no practical skills aside from spending money and socializing. They could barely survive in their well-insulated homes with their parents, never mind out in the wilderness where they would have to fend for themselves. Michael’s situation was very different because he had been deprived of the opportunity to learn and evolve on his own out in the world, but he was similar to all the rest in his age group in that he was helpless without modern conveniences. Being able to hunt and kill his fellow man would not put food on the table, nor would it make the vegetables in the garden grow. And the inability to create or maintain some form of shelter would trap Michael in an unliveable environment where he would eventually become sick and deteriorate. Even though Jason didn’t mind ensuring all of Michael’s needs were met, he wanted his mate to be prepared for anything. There were times when Jason came up against trespassing humans who used power tools, guns, and other cruel weapons against him, mortally injuring him in the process. While healing was not a problem, it did take time. If he were out in the woods recovering from being bludgeoned half to death with an axe, not being able to get back on his feet for days, Jason didn’t want to worry about whether or not Michael would be able to feed himself or ride out a storm during that time. He had to prepare his mate for any eventuality.

“Do you use a hammer to hunt animals?” Michael ignorantly asked Jason.

The question was so innocent that it amused Jason instead of irritating him. “Trespassers, yes. Animals, no. I’m going to teach you how to use a hammer to fix a roof. You can help me patch this place up before winter.”

“Okay,” Michael readily agreed.

Well that was easy! There was one thing that Michael definitely did not have in common with his peers. Unlike the young men and women who had grown up with a privileged lifestyle, Michael was eager to learn and not at all lazy.

“Good.” Jason affectionately stroked Michael’s cheek and pulled him in closer for a much deserved kiss. It was a slow, unrushed kiss, but the instant he slid his tongue between Michael’s lips, his mate whimpered. _Still sensitive_. Usually Jason didn’t have much of an ego, but seeing the effect he had on Michael really empowered him. He’d worried that Michael might reject him upon seeing just how grotesque he was fully unclothed. If that had happened, Jason would have been beside himself with grief. But the only thing Michael had been afraid of was the act itself. For some reason, Michael looked at Jason in a completely different manner than everyone else in Jason’s distant and recent past had. There was nothing but respect, curiosity and admiration in Michael’s gaze. During their lovemaking - somewhere towards the end - a deeper emotion had filled those darkening blue eyes. Jason hoped, but didn’t dare ask for confirmation, that Michael may have fallen in love with him.

Jason slid his hand down Michael’s sleek back as they kissed. Although slender, Michael’s arms and legs were leanly muscled and his back quite strong. The sexy doll’s chest and abdominal area were also nicely defined but not at all bulky. Jason loved running his hands over the pleasant shapes of Michael’s body. He enjoyed being able to touch and caress another living being, just as he had seen countless others do over the years. And it was even better when Michael touched him back.

“Do you like your pumpkin?” Jason asked between kisses.

Michael gazed up at him through those long eyelashes of his, giving Jason a seductive look that said _to hell with the pumpkin_! However, when he glanced over at the pumpkin to see that it was still cheerfully watching over them, he ended up grinning. “It’s cute.”

Were pumpkins supposed to be cute? Jason had tried his best to make it look scary. He had never carved a pumpkin before, so he had just jabbed his machete into the spots where he imagined the eyes went. And one long slash had made what he hoped was a menacing grin. Furniture he knew how to make, but putting faces on fruits or vegetables was a bit beyond him.

“It’s supposed to be scary,” Jason said in disappointment.

“It’s so cute it’s scary,” Michael corrected himself.

Was Michael teasing him? Jason had a hard time telling because his mate’s tone remained unchanged. But one look at at Michael’s amused expression told Jason that he was indeed being mocked, though not in a cruel way. Nobody had ever joked around with Jason before. Whenever a joke was made, Jason was always the punchline. During Jason’s childhood, around Halloween, the kids were never done describing horrible monsters and ghouls that roamed the neighborhood in search of humans to kill and eat. Unfortunately for Jason, those stories usually ended with someone pointing at him. The kids would run around in a frenzy afterwards, screaming and laughing, pleading with Jason not to eat them. It was probably thanks to such heartless cretins and much emotional trauma that Jason disliked children so much, as well as Halloween. Even now, the teenagers who challenged Jason by intruding on his territory described him as an abomination so ugly that to see him was to invite death. Jason dealt with those nasty punks more harshly than all the others, revealing that deep down he was sensitive about his looks and had one hell of a temper.

“What are you thinking about?”

Jason looked down to find Michael watching him with concern. Michael’s hands were pressed to Jason’s face in the attempt to draw him out of whatever bad memory he had lost himself to.

“My sweet Michael,” Jason sighed, taking both of Michael’s hands into one of his own while keeping his other arm wrapped tightly around his mate. Michael would never call Jason ugly or treat him like a monster, running away from him in disgust or fear. “I was remembering my childhood.”

“It doesn’t seem like a very nice childhood,” Michael commented, his lips thinning into a displeased frown.

“Every day with Mother was happy.” Jason didn’t want Michael to think that he had grown up without happiness. He had loved his mother very much, just as much as she had loved him. “But growing up ugly was difficult.”

Something flashed in Michael’s eyes then. Something dark and sinister. “You’re not ugly.” Although calm, his voice was practically buzzing with anger. “Why would you think that you’re ugly?”

Feeling uncomfortably embarrassed by Michael’s anger - in a good way - Jason tried to shrug off what had been done to him so long ago. “The other kids always called me ugly and deformed. Because I was born with this disease... My mother called it hydro-... hydroseefa.” Jason couldn’t for the life of him remember what the heck it was called.

“Hydrocephalus,” Michael expertly pronounced the word as if he had heard or read it somewhere before. “There is nothing more despicable than tormenting someone who was born different than everyone else.”

Jason felt Michael’s right hand clench into a fist and instinctively knew that his mate was imagining gripping a knife. Had any of Jason’s childhood tormentors been present, Jason was sure that Michael would have stabbed them to death. Jason was overjoyed knowing that Michael cared for him enough to kill. “You’re a good mate - a _loyal_ mate,” Jason praised Michael. He was tempted to call Michael’s reaction cute but worried that it might put him in a bad mood. There was something else that Michael was - clever. Where had Michael picked up the word ‘hydrocephalus’, and why had he remembered it? Jason doubted there were many people suffering from the illness because he had never encountered anyone like himself.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?” Jason grew tired of hunching over to embrace Michael, so he lifted Michael up and into his lap where he could see him up close. Those pretty features had relaxed again, and there was a bit of a glow in those crystal blue eyes.

“What is love?”

The question caught Jason completely off guard. He floundered for a moment, wondering why Michael was asking and how he should respond. It also struck him as odd that Michael would know the name for his condition but not know how to define the strongest of all human emotions. “It’s when you... uh... you like someone - someone special. But it’s a very strong like. My mother told me that you can only love one person.”

“But how do you know if it’s love instead of like?”

Once again Michael revealed just how innocent he was about human relationships. He honestly didn’t have a clue what love was or how to differentiate it from other emotions. Jason felt sad for Michael, picturing just how lonely a life his mate had led before they found each other. Had no one loved Michael before?

“Do you know hate?” Jason asked. He was pretty sure that Michael had felt that emotion before. Jason had definitely felt it emanating off of him when his mate had stabbed that intruder back in the woods. When Michael nodded, Jason continued. “Love is the opposite of hate. Imagine someone you really hate.”

“I hate Loomis’ family,” Michael said with a dark enthusiasm.

“I could tell.” Jason had glimpsed the bodies down by the lake from afar, so he had a fairly good idea how much Michael despised the Loomises. _Wait a minute!_ “Is that what you wanted to do on Halloween? Finish off the Loomises?”

Very smoothly, Michael nodded his head.

“There’s only one left.”

Again Michael didn’t bother to deny that he already knew that.

“If you’re after the cousin, you won’t find her.”

“I have no problem finding people,” Michael replied nonchalantly.

“No. I mean she’s gone. She moved away years ago.”

“To where?”

“Nobody knows.”

Michael wouldn’t go out looking for her, would he? Jason’s pretty little doll wouldn’t leave him alone after what they had shared together, would he? Before Jason could become too anxious over the prospect of losing his beautiful mate, Michael tiredly leaned in closer to him. He felt Michael’s arms wrap around his torso, and then Michael rested his head against Jason’s bare chest.

“Sleepy?” Jason asked. He fondly smiled at Michael and hugged him tighter.

“Perhaps I’m coming down with something,” Michael said with a yawn. “I never get tired on Halloween.”

“You know why you’re tired,” Jason said suggestively. “I’m tired, too.” Reaching for the carved pumpkin, Jason wiggled his big fingers inside the widest part of its mouth. With his thumb and index finger, he pinched the wick of the candle, killing the flame.

“Why did you do that?” Michael complained sleepily. “I wanted to watch your silly pumpkin.”

“You can watch my silly pumpkin tomorrow. Tonight you sleep.” Jason lay back on the bear rug, pulling Michael down with him. The cushions on the sofa were out of reach, and Jason was too stubborn to release Michael to go and get them, so he stuffed their pile of clothing under his head as a makeshift pillow. He’d slept in much worse positions without either a pillow or a blanket. One night on the bear wouldn’t do much harm to his already slightly hunched posture.

It was now very dark inside Jason’s cabin. The fire was only capable of illuminating so much. As the flames danced merrily inside the fireplace, so did the shadows that were cast on the floor and walls. Jason watched them as he caressed Michael’s face. Gazing down at his sleepy mate curled up against him, Jason was amused to see those crystal blue eyes struggling to stay open.

“Do you still want to know what love is?” Jason asked, his voice a quite rumble in the darkness.

“Yes,” Michael responded softly.

“ _This_ is love.” Jason kissed Michael’s forehead for emphasis. “I love you, Michael.”

At first Michael simply looked at Jason in wonder. Then he smiled in delight as if someone had just given him the greatest present ever. “I love you, Jason,” he replied without hesitation.

Jason had not been expecting to hear his feelings reciprocated. And certainly not with so much warmth and certainty. Michael truly loved him. They were not just alpha and omega, bound together by duty and obligation. Jason now believed that they were lovers and soulmates who were destined to be together. It was with that happy thought that he fell asleep, forgetting to ask Michael why his eyes were still a bright blue instead of a rich brownish-black.

** This is my first time drawing both Jason and Michael without their masks. I tried my best to illustrate the scene that I had in my head.


	14. Chapter 14

“I truly believe that you will find this experience... _enlightening_ , Michael. Perhaps you might even want to _talk_ about it afterwards.”

Michael emotionlessly watched as the door before him was unlocked by one of the custodians on the graveyard shift. He had never been in this wing of the sanitarium before. All patients were expressly forbidden from entering the east wing. However, never having been in the area didn’t mean that Michael wasn’t aware of the type of residents it housed. This was where the high risk patients spent most of their days, locked up in their rooms where they couldn’t harm themselves... or anyone else. From his very first day at Smith’s Grove, Michael had been introduced to the screams, catcalls and howls that echoed throughout the east wing. They were so disturbing that he had nearly broken his resolve to remain silent. Lying in bed, night after night, listening to those horrifying sounds... Michael had spent many a night shivering in terror and silently pleading for the morning to arrive.

Why was Loomis dragging Michael into one of these dreadful rooms in the wee hours of the morning? It was cold in the drafty hallways, especially at night, and Michael’s standard-issue hospital gown was embarrassingly thin. Oh, it might have been far too long in the sleeves and overall length due to Michael being much smaller than the regular adult patients, but the extra material did nothing to block out the chilly air. He would have preferred to keep on wearing his civilian clothes, but he had outgrown what few outfits his parents had originally left with the sanitarium staff. Perhaps if his parents had visited him... or even inquired about his wellbeing after he’d been committed... But no one had come for him. In all the years that he had spent at Smith’s Grove, not once had anyone so much as called to ask how he was doing. And he should know because Loomis was forever drilling it into his head that he was an unloved and unwanted bastard child.

“In you go, Michael.” Doctor Samuel Loomis, Michael’s psychiatrist - and personal tormentor, ushered Michael into the very dark room. It was eerily quiet inside. There wasn’t even any audible breathing to be heard, which meant that the room was either empty or... whoever else was in the room was holding his breath. Once he had positioned Michael near the foot of the bed, Loomis backed out of the room. “If you need anything, you have only but to call.” His piercing gaze sought out Michael’s in the darkness. For the millionth time, he seemed disappointed when Michael neither looked at him nor so much as flinched to indicate that he was aware of what was going on.

“Are you sure you want to lock him in there with _that_?” The custodian asked as the heavy metal door swung shut behind Michael. “He’s just a kid.”

“He may be a thirteen-year-old boy on the outside, but I assure you that he is nothing but decaying evil on the inside. Furthermore, it is yet to be determined who will be more afraid of whom.” With those parting words, Loomis and the custodian continued on their way down to the other end of the hall. Probably to have themselves a coffee and a smoke while they gossiped about how rotten and wicked Michael was.

Loomis was always telling anyone who would listen about the evil inside Michael and how he was beyond saving. Michael’s endless silence and failure to cooperate with the psychiatrist had apparently frustrated the tired old coot to no end. Now, instead of wanting to help Michael, he wanted to damn him in the worst possible way. To get him to trip up and reveal that the self-induced catatonia was just an act. Then it would be off to the state penitentiary for Michael where a boy of his size and looks would become nothing but a slab of meat for the other inmates to feast on. And that was only if Michael wasn’t immediately given a death sentence and sent off to the electric chair or given a lethal injection. Michael knew the fate that awaited him if he screwed up. Loomis had been only too happy to inform him of his bleak future in life. Repeatedly. And in many different colorful ways.

“Who’s brought me a girl then?” A hoarse voice sounded from the other end of the room, rattling both the silence and Michael’s nerves. The sound of thick leather straps being pulled taut followed, and the entire bed frame shook.

Michael clenched his teeth and willed himself to keep his gaze focused on the far wall, above the man’s shock of grey hair. Although his eyes had quickly become acclimatized to the darkness, he could barely see in the pale grey room. The only source of light was a sliver of a moonbeam stretching across the room from a tiny window located high up on Michael’s right side. It was enough for Michael to make out the tall, bulky figure lying strapped down to the hospital bed but not much more than that. Most of the residents of Smith’s Grove were exceptionally pudgy or flabby. It was one of nature’s punishments for leading a sedentary life and bullying the smaller, weaker patients into giving up their dessert at mealtime.

“C’mere and show me what ye’ve got, girl,” the man beckoned gleefully.

There were no other children as young as Michael in the sanitarium, so Michael had no way of knowing if he was small for his age and therefore easily mistaken as a girl, or if the man was just as blind as he was crazy. Although, Michael’s thick brown locks of hair and long eyelashes certainly did him no favors. This was not the first time that someone had referred to him as a girl, but it was definitely the first time that Michael wanted to lash out at the offender. How dare Loomis drop him off in a room with this nutcase in order to frighten him into speaking! And to be called a girl?! Michael was no girl!

“ _I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH_!” The man shot forward against his restraints, nearly causing the metal railings to bend as he grabbed for Michael with his outstretched clawed hands.

The action coupled with a voice so deafening that it caused the patients from neighboring rooms to begin shouting and screaming caused Michael to actually take a step backwards in fright. His gaze automatically fell on the arm restraints, his mouth opening soundlessly as he noticed that the left restraint was loose. It was loose and slipping. Every time the old man tried to lunge at Michael, the leather strap loosened further.

Michael frantically looked around the room for something to defend himself with. There was nothing. This man was so dangerous that he didn’t even have a bedside table or a brush for his unkempt hair. The only two things in the room, aside from Michael, were the old man and the bed.

“ _GONNA RIP YOU IN TWO, BITCH_!” The man howled, his bloodshot eyes practically bulging out of his face with an insane fury.

Now absolutely terrified, Michael took another step backwards. He was trembling like a dog about to be beaten and there was a glassy veil of tears blurring his vision. He desperately wanted to scream, to beg for Loomis to come back. Although quite resourceful and skilled at getting himself out of tight situations, there was nothing that Michael could realistically do against a man that size. What had Loomis locked him in with? A serial killer? A butcher? A sadistic rapist? What would this man do if he got loose and discovered that Michael was not a girl?

The bed practically exploded when the man wrenched his left arm free and surged forward to grab for Michael. At the same instant, the door violently swung open and a flash of white shoved Michael out of the way. A syringe was swiftly jammed into the man’s arm and the plunger pressed all the way down, dispensing the medicine that he so obviously needed.

“ _FUCKING WHORE_!” The man snarled at the intruding nurse, grabbing uselessly for her throat after she was already out of arm’s reach.

“How did you get in here?!” The nurse - a middle-aged blonde woman wearing thick black glasses and a name tag that read _Margaret_ \- pulled Michael away from the bed and out the door. Her expression was harsh and unfriendly, no doubt because she had barely entered the room in time to avert a disaster. No nurse wanted to be responsible for allowing one patient to be attacked by another, especially if the victim was some underage kid. Aside from the lawsuits that would undoubtedly ensue from such an incident, the negative media coverage would probably result in Smith’s Grove getting shut down. And did Smith’s Grove ever deserve to be shut down!

For a second, Margaret stood there with her arms crossed in front of her chest, practically fuming with anger. However, after she saw the tears that were spilling over Michael’s cheeks, her attitude softened. “Let me guess, Doctor Loomis,” she muttered without amusement. “Where’s the loose cannon now?”

Feeling incredibly grateful for Margaret’s intervention, and still horribly shaken up by his ordeal, Michael slipped up. He raised his hand and pointed to the end of the hall with one finger, the blood draining from his face immediately after he’d done so.

For some reason, Margaret did not act shocked by Michael’s response. Instead, she wrapped an arm around him and led him off in the opposite direction. “He’s going to get the whole place shut down if he keeps pulling stunts like this,” she grumbled to herself.

Not knowing how things were going to play out, Michael dumbly followed her while trying to discretely wipe his tears on the end of his gown’s sleeve.

Margaret paused in front of the locked door leading to the stairs. Taking out her access card, she swiped it through the reader, which unlocked the door with a click. Pushing the door open, she ushered Michael through it and began to lead him down the stairs.

“Here.” Margaret stopped on the first landing and handed Michael a small packet of tissues. “Don’t let them see you crying,” she warned when Michael looked blankly at the foreign object. “If there’s one thing that sharks love, it’s to see blood in the water,” she elaborated.

Finally understanding what he was meant to do with the tissues, Michael took the packet and hastily plucked out three or four tissues before using them to blot his tears.

“You can understand me, can’t you?”

Michael scrunched up the damp tissues into a ball in his fist but said not a word.

“It’s probably better if you keep up the act,” Margaret said when Michael remained silent. “I’m not so good at lying.”

Michael didn’t know how to react to the situation. This was his first time interacting with Margaret. She was usually tasked to another area of the sanitarium so he hadn’t really paid attention to her before. Occasionally, she covered for another nurse during the lunch hour or when someone was off sick, but that was about it. And she had certainly never spoken to Michael before.

“You poor child.”

Suddenly, Margaret leaned forward, her arms outstretched in a gesture that was very familiar to Michael. He had seen visiting friends and family members do it with other patients, and sometimes the doctors and nurses did it with each other. Margaret was going to hug him. At first Michael didn’t know how he felt about that. Did he want to be hugged? Long ago, in some distant memory, he vaguely remembered being hugged as a small child. He also remembered that he had enjoyed the physical contact. Family members and their overbearing friends had always been eager to hug Michael. At the time, everyone had called Michael the cute little angelic boy who could do no wrong. “ _Who wouldn’t want to dote on a sweet boy with such impeccable manners?_ ” Mrs. Anderson, Michael’s kindergarten teacher had exclaimed on the first day she met him. A hug had soon followed, and then the predictable ruffling of his hair. “ _Is he always this quiet and well behaved?”_ She had asked when Michael fidgeted and clutched his lunch box extra tight to diffuse the nervous energy that being squished like that created.

“ _He’s a bit shy, but he’ll start talking when he gets comfortable enough. Michael’s a good boy, aren’t you, Michael_?” Mrs. Myers tone was a little lacklustre, indicating that she had heard similar compliments enough times in the past and was now bored of them. She never grew tired of hearing complete strangers raving about how wonderful and talented Judith was, though. Judith was special in a way that Michael never could be. She was the Myers’ firstborn and had many years on Michael. Years of love, affection, and bonding that could not be rivaled. She was also a girl, which Michael suspected was his parents’ personal preference. “ _Oh, I’ve got to be at Judith’s dance recital. It starts in half an hour. Be good, Michael. I’ll pick you up later on._ ” And then Mrs. Myers was gone, abandoning Michael to Mrs. Anderson and the group of miniature screaming monsters that had been given free rein of the classroom.

The more Michael thought about what it meant to be hugged and how good it felt, the more he longed for Margaret to wrap her arms around him and squeeze him tight. To provide him with the physical and emotional stimulation that he had been deprived of for too many years. However, after a brief moment of hesitation, Margaret pulled back.

“That was unprofessional of me,” she muttered to herself. “I have to keep reminding myself not to get involved with the patients.” Taking Michael’s arm, she prodded him down the rest of the steps. “You know, I have a daughter around your age, Michael. I don’t know what I’d do if she wound up in a place like this.”

Now feeling miserable and resentful due to Margaret’s withdrawn motherly support, Michael refused to look at her again.

“We’re going to take a quick detour past the kitchen, where I’m going to get you a bowl of ice cream that you’re usually not allowed, and then I’m taking you back to your room. I trust that you won’t tell anyone about this?” When Michael continued to stare off into space and stumble along like a zombie, Margaret nodded to herself. “Of course you won’t.”

No, Michael would not tell anyone about Margaret’s kindness. But he couldn’t help but feel cheated by it. It was a kindness not fully realized, with restrictions and limitations. He didn’t want Margaret’s three-ply extra soft tissues, and he didn’t want a stupid bowl of vanilla ice cream. What he wanted was the loving embrace that this nurse gave to her beloved daughter. What he wanted was to know what it felt like to smile again - to be happy. Because every day in this hellhole was drenched in nothing but fear, anger and hatred.

“ _Michael? Wake up! You’re having a bad dream again.”_

Every day of Michael’s life seemed to be nothing but a bad dream. A nightmare that consisted of a hard bed, a small window with no curtains, dust accumulating in the four corners of the room, wailing old men, bland food with no texture, harassment and threats.

“ _Pretty little doll!”_

Michael awoke with a start, his lips parted in a silent scream. He did _not_ want to be back at Smith’s Grove. He _never_ wanted to go back there, Margaret or no Margaret.

“Poor, poor Michael,” Jason mumbled gruffly by Michael’s ear. His large hand was reassuringly stroking Michael’s hair, petting him so firmly that Michael could not raise his head from where it was pressed against Jason’s bare chest. “You won’t go back there. I promise. Never,” he fiercely vowed.

“Was I talking in my sleep?” Michael immediately felt embarrassed for whatever Jason had overheard. Having a nightmare was one thing, but blurting out his thoughts and feelings while in the middle of one was something entirely different. The problem was that he had become too comfortable around Jason. After three weeks of living together, sleeping together, sharing three meals a day together, and even showering together, Michael had completely let his guard down both during his waking moments and while he was fretfully slumbering. He now trusted Jason implicitly. Amazingly, Michael felt so safe and secure while in Jason’s embrace that he no longer slept with his knife clutched in one hand. And he had stopped taking refuge under the bed or in the corner of the room at night. Jason tended to get all upset whenever he woke up to an empty bed and had to search for Michael in the morning.

“A little,” Jason replied as he craned his neck down to nuzzle Michael’s face. “I hate that place for locking you up. But you’re mine now. They can’t take you back. I won’t let them.”

“But those men...”

“They keep sending men and I will keep slaughtering them,” Jason vowed in an icy tone.

While out hunting, Jason and Michael had encountered another five men on four separate occasions over the past three weeks. Although those men hadn’t made it close enough to their home to be a real threat, they had been disposed of nonetheless. Michael didn’t like the idea of anyone stalking him, and Jason had one hell of a temper whenever anyone crossed over his invisible boundaries or attempted to touch something - or someone - he considered to be _his_. It just so happened that Michael now fit into the description of someone who belonged to Jason. At first it had been a bit awkward adjusting to the role that Jason, as well as nature, had decided for him. Michael was a solitary predator by nature and had grown accustomed to living a life of scorn, neglect and loneliness. However, after that first night when Michael had given up his virginity to Jason, everything had changed. Now Michael acknowledged Jason as his alpha, the stronger and superior male who would care for him and see to it that all his needs were met. And Jason did all that and more. Jason was a proficient hunter, an affectionate lover, a skilled cook, and a handyman around their _den_ \- as Jason liked to call it. Since moving in with Jason, Michael had not gone to bed or woken up hungry, nor had he spent any of his nights shivering in the cold or hiding in some cramped, dark spot. Jason was forever kissing and embracing him, as well as rambling on about cheerful things like their plans for the next few days or what was going on in the environment around them. As odd as it was, Michael actually enjoyed hearing about migrating birds, an increase in the salmon population, and the different ways that animals liked to mate. Although, Michael suspected that Jason brought up the mating as a means of getting him in the mood for the intimacy that they shared at night. It didn’t take much to get Michael interested because he really enjoyed being touched by Jason. However, the last few nights had been a bit too intense for him. Maybe he had reached a limit of some sort...

“Are you still sore?” Jason knowingly cupped one hand over Michael’s buttocks while the fingers of his other hand delved between them.

Michael gasped when he felt Jason’s large finger press experimentally against his opening. “You know I am,” Michael accused as he tried to pull away. “And it isn’t sore, it’s—.”

“Sensitive,” Jason interrupted at the same time as his finger eased into Michael.

“Jason!” Michael began to tell his mate off but ended up moaning with pleasure instead. He could never refuse Jason, especially not when it felt so good to be touched by him.

“I don’t understand,” Jason complained as he toyed with Michael. “You’re hungry here but not—.”

“I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately,” Michael preemptively explained. He knew what Jason was about to gripe about. Over the past week, Michael had begun to eat less and less, occasionally even avoiding some of the dishes that Jason prepared for him. And it really had nothing to do with a lack of appetite. He only said that so as not to hurt Jason’s feelings. In actuality, the sight and smell of some foods were making Michael feel unwell. His reaction to the mild smell of salmon was tolerable, but the fishy odor of rainbow trout now made him feel nauseated. And forget wild boar. Just the sight of that greasy meat really aggravated Michael’s stomach pains something awful, never mind the wretched smell of the sizzling swine. But that didn’t mean that he turned his nose up at Jason’s flavorful stews and mixed potato dishes. Those Michael could tolerate and still enjoyed, so long as Jason didn’t add any peculiar spices or anything else that irritated his sense of smell. On the other hand, Michael found himself craving sweets at all hours of the day. Fruits, regardless of how ripe and sweet they were, just couldn’t satisfy his need for sugar. He wanted bakery cakes, donuts, chocolate bars... All the wonderfully tasty delicacies that he had not been allowed at the sanitarium. 

“That’s a lie,” Jason said straight out. He stroked his free hand over the lean muscles of Michael’s abdomen. “Your stomach is growling.”

“I’m not really—.”

“If you don’t want the trout for breakfast, then we won’t eat it for breakfast,” Jason said simply. He pushed his finger deeper inside Michael for emphasis. “Tell me what you want.”

Gripping Jason by his shoulders, Michael tried to lure him closer for a kiss. “I want you,” he replied unsteadily.

“No. What do you want for breakfast?”

When Jason withdrew his finger, Michael moodily glared at him. “Pastries,” he answered abruptly. “With jam.” He hadn’t wanted to trouble Jason with his unreasonable requests and odd food cravings, but he was now feeling a bit gloomy and resentful. How dare Jason withhold pleasuring him just because Michael didn’t want to eat his stupid boar.

Upon hearing the unrealistic breakfast order, Jason’s face clouded over with puzzlement. “Is that really what you want to eat?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you didn’t eat the boar yesterday?”

“I don’t like boar.” While he was being honest, Michael figured that he may as well let Jason know that he no longer wanted to find big chunks of fatty wild pig on his dinner plate at night.

“You liked it fine two weeks ago.”

“That was two weeks ago. I got sick of it after that. It’s too oily and it upsets my stomach.”

Michael expected Jason to be offended by his brutal honesty, but all Jason did was wrap both arms around him and squeeze him tight. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“No more boar. No more trout.”

Suddenly feeling bad about how demanding he was being, Michael quickly attempted to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your cooking, Jason. I really love your cooking.”

“I know you do.” Jason smiled reassuringly and kissed Michael on the lips. “My pretty little doll has become fussy. Omegas often are.”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“You’re right. You’re fussier than all the other omegas, Michael,” Jason teased.

“You don’t know any other omegas.”

“Humans, no. Animals, yes.” When Jason rolled out from under him and got out of bed, Michael tried to pull him back in. “I’m going to make breakfast for you. No pastries. Something better.”

“But I want to stay in bed longer,” Michael protested.

This time when Jason looked at him, his eyes were filled with concern and uncertainty. “No more bed. You’re not eating and you’re acting tired and grumpy. You need food and fresh air. Mother would tell you not to eat garbage for breakfast. But she doesn’t have to see how grumpy you are.”

Michael held his tongue, not wanting to say anything about Jason’s mother that might be misinterpreted. If Jason was bringing his mother into the argument, that meant the argument was over. There was nothing Michael could say to contradict Jason’s mother, even though she was no longer in any position to affect them one way or the other. Either Jason was going to whip him up a plate of unhealthy garbage - sweets - or he was going to dress up a bunch of healthy fruits and vegetables so that they looked more aesthetically pleasing. Perhaps Michael might be naive enough to mistake them for pudding and cupcakes. Although that was not very likely.

“Get dressed.” Jason commanded when Michael just lay there staring at him. It was hard not to stare at such a godlike figure. Everything about Jason was hard and muscular, even his backside. Jason was physically active from sunup to sundown, hunting things, killing things, building things. But there were certain things that Michael excelled at where Jason failed. Like wood engraving, hunting the more elusive prey like pheasants and turkeys, and household maintenance. After Jason had caught Michael fooling around with his handmade wood carving tools one day, Michael had been assigned the task of brightening up their living space. And Michael had done just that. First he had started with the bedroom, engraving artistic renderings of pumpkins, bats, spooky cats, and other Halloween symbols up and down the walls. Jason had stopped him before he decided to do something similar in the living room. Instead, Jason had requested that each room be different in atmosphere and style. So Michael had turned the living room into a lively forest of trees and wildlife, the bathroom into a tropical floating heaven of clouds, and the front room - which neither of them ever used - into a rough sea of drowning mermaids, man-eating fish and sunken ships. Michael had not been in a very good mood that day. As for the birds, Michael’s approach to hunting them was a lot subtler than Jason’s. Michael could creep much closer without making any noise or attracting attention. And it wouldn’t have taken much for someone to be cleaner than Jason when it came to the tidying up and keeping on top of the general household chores.

“Where are your clothes?” Jason was now on his hands and knees, peering under the bed for the blue jeans and knit sweater that he wanted Michael to wear.

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Gone,” Michael repeated with a twinge of humor. He hated blue jeans and he wasn’t about to put on a pink fluffy sweater.

“Not many people come here in the winter,” Jason said in annoyance as he pushed himself up off of the floor. “No people means no clothes. You will wear what I give you.”

“I won’t wear pink.”

Jason opened his mouth wide, perhaps to shout, but then shut it again. “Bad moody doll,” he grumbled under his breath as he thumped out of the room with not a shred of material to protect himself from the bitter chill. The bedroom was so cold that they could see their breath in the frosty morning air. Jason had built a mini fireplace by the window and left the window open a crack to let out the smoke, but it was only useful to have if someone remembered to stock it with firewood before turning in for the night. Last night they had been too busy doing _other things_ to bother with the fireplace.

“Jason, it’s freezing in here!” Michael called after his mate. With Jason gone, Michael now had no one to keep him warm.

Not five minutes later, Jason returned with a peach zippered hoodie, the hood lined with dark fleecy fur, and a pair of black jeans. He tossed both articles of clothing onto the bed, along with a long sleeve cotton undershirt and a pair of black briefs. “It isn’t pink,” he stated before Michael could complain about the color.

No, it wasn’t pink. It still wasn’t a color that Michael would have voluntarily picked up in a store, but it looked nice and warm.

Once Michael was dressed, he followed Jason into the living room. There was a roaring fire waiting for him there. And it was always comfortable on the bear rug... So that’s where Michael flopped himself down. As close to the fire as he dared get without risking burning his toes.

“We have apples. And sugar. Breakfast is apple jam with sweet potatoes and salted salmon.” Jason was now over by the sink washing apples. He had pulled on a faded pair of wrecked jeans that were still full of bloodstains, but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Jason was not as sensitive to the cold as Michael was.

Apple jam and sweet potatoes sounded good. Much better than stinky trout and regular potatoes. It wasn’t pastries but it would have to do. They would need flour, eggs _and_ an oven in order to make real pastries. However, if they tried to siphon any more electricity from the old Flores’ farm, they’d end up raising red flags. Then they would either get cut off completely or have more intruders to deal with.

“Michael...”

Michael looked up in alarm. Jason sounded very nervous. Jason _never_ got nervous. There were many negative emotions that Jason had no trouble exhibiting. Things like annoyance, red hot anger, and impatience. But he did not do nervous.

“Last night...” Again, Jason hesitated.

“What about last night?” Michael had been good, hadn’t he? Jason had kissed and praised him as usual afterwards. And Jason had come extra hard inside of him. Had Michael done something wrong?

“After we made love... were you sick in the bathroom?”

“What? N—no... Sick? I don’t get sick,” Michael replied in a flustered tone. He hoped that Jason would interpret it as him being offended and not extremely embarrassed. Had he been sick in the bathroom? Yes. Michael couldn’t remember ever throwing up in his life, but that’s exactly what he had done last night. That’s why he wanted nothing more to do with that vile smelling boar. He was sure that it had either caused an allergic reaction or given him food poisoning. What else could have made him sick? Surely not the bland potatoes or the inoffensive carrots. And throwing up was a scary thing. Michael hated how weak and helpless it made him feel, as well as scared. But he didn’t want Jason to know that he had been sick. He didn’t want Jason to see him like that, as much as he could have done with a reassuring hug or a cup of soothing herbal tea afterwards.

Jason kept his gaze on the apples he was chopping up, but his tone grew even more serious. “You would tell me if you were sick, wouldn’t you?” Before Michael could reply, he continued. “A good alpha has to look after his mate, Michael. Especially if his mate is sick.”

Michael remained silent. Part of him wanted to tell Jason because he was sure that his mate would know how to make him feel better. But the other part of him - the part that was stubborn and rebellious - ordered him to keep his mouth shut and bear the suffering as he had done so many times previously in his life.

After Jason shoved the pan of apples and sugar into the fire, he grabbed the blanket off of the sofa and wrapped Michael up in it. “So you don’t get sick,” he explained when Michael looked up at him. When Jason returned to the kitchen area with a closed off expression, Michael began to get the feeling that his lover knew damn fine that he was lying but just didn’t want to confront him about it - yet.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Happy Halloween Month!** 🎃 🎃 🎃 👻 👻 👻

_No trout. No boar. No pink sweaters. No boats._ What would be next? No Jason?

Jason cringed at the thought of Michael one day announcing that he had grown tired of living in such an isolated part of the woods. If Michael were to begin to resent his cozy little cabin and the daily chores that kept him busy, wouldn’t he want to distance himself from Jason as well? Would Michael ditch Jason in favor of returning to the more stimulating small town lifestyle? Then Michael could have as many pastries as he wanted. He could also stay in a warm house with central heating instead of shivering every time he strayed too far from the fireplace.

 _Don’t be ridiculous_ , Jason silently chided himself. _I’m not losing my Michael._ Especially not over something so childish as cinnamon rolls and cupcakes with sky high frosting. If Michael wanted cakes so badly, then Jason would create a small boxed oven to bake them in. How hard could it be? He had seen his mother bake cookies and other sweet snacks as a child. The easy part was mixing the batter together and adding things like chocolate chips and candied fruits. The challenging part would be determining how hot a stainless steel ‘ _oven_ ’ would get when placed into the center of a fireplace. From there, Jason would need to determine how long to bake the cakes or cookies for. After a temporary period of trial and error, Jason would be able to pacify Michael’s cravings and mood swings with anything his little heart desired.

“I thought you liked my boat,” Jason mumbled sullenly as he rowed back to shore. He had stolen a fairly sturdy rowboat from one of the small camping sites he had shut down last year. Although originally a bright red, Jason had scraped most of the paint off so that it no longer attracted so much attention. He liked bright objects about as much as Michael liked pink sweaters, as in not at all.

“I do like your boat,” Michael said slowly before going back to clenching his teeth and hugging Jason’s right arm extra tight.

Was Michael afraid of the water? Jason was aware that Michael could not swim, which is why he always kept the omega beside him on the center seat. Jason knew firsthand the horror and trauma associated with drowning in a large body of water. He would _never_ allow Michael to go through such an emotionally scarring ordeal. Anyway, there was no risk of anything happening to Michael while they were out on the water because Jason had made his peace with the lake long ago. They were friends, of sorts, and Jason had grown used to safely navigating his way along both the surface of the lake and the bottom of its depths. It was his understanding of the lake’s nature that had removed his fear of it.

Before being dragged off to that wretched sanitarium, Michael had never been given any swimming lessons. According to Michael, the small town of Haddonfield was not like the more glamorous cities where a lot of the houses boasted chlorine-filled swimming pools in their backyards. Michael had come from an old-fashioned, hardworking family that focused its money on cultured hobbies and investing for the future. While the Myerses had taken summer vacations like everyone else, they had ended up spending it in their backyard having barbecues or going to town events. Nobody had ever taken Michael to a lake to learn how to swim because they had been too busy fussing over Michael’s older sister. Judith had hated getting her shoes and clothes dirty, so she had shunned the park and vehemently refused to go to any beach or lake. Judith’s ideal summer had involved modelling, working on her imaginary future career in singing, and dancing to attract the boys. Was that why Michael had killed her? Because he had been jealous of all the attention his parents had showered her with? It would make sense if he had.

But no, that was not why Michael had killed Judith. When Michael had finally confided in Jason about his past a little over a week ago, he had said that killing Judith was _necessary_. There hadn’t been any emotions attached to his statement and therefore no jealousy. Jason appreciated Michael’s honesty, and he also understood how complicated Michael’s mind and emotions were. Perhaps Michael himself did not know why he had killed Judith. In any case, Jason had no feelings to spare for a girl he had never met. For all he knew, Judith would have been the type who mercilessly teased Jason for his physical appearance. A girl like that never would have befriended Jason. On the contrary, she might have joined the group of kids that had thrown Jason into Crystal Lake. Anyway, it did not matter what Michael had done or why. Jason would stand by him regardless of whether he had done right or wrong.

“Can you please row faster?” Michael’s words were muffled against Jason’s arm. The moody omega was now pressing his face into Jason’s stretched brown suede jacket and digging his fingers into Jason’s exposed wrist.

“Not with you hanging onto me like this,” Jason complained. Sure, he was strong enough to bench press Michael, but manuevering a paddle while his mate was hanging onto him was a bit more difficult. “The water is still, Michael. There is nothing to be afraid of.” The lake would not be so nice in December when the winter winds picked up and rocked the boat to and fro. It was a comparatively peaceful day for the end of November. Quiet, mild, and relaxing. Or at least it should have been.

In response, Michael moaned and tugged impatiently on Jason’s sleeve. “Row faster. _Please_?”

So Jason rowed faster. He didn’t understand what was with the urgency to return to shore, but he got them there in record time anyway.

No sooner had Jason beached the boat than Michael was climbing over the hull and staggering off across the soft dirt like a drunk. He got no further than a few feet before he fell to his hands and knees and began to vomit.

Jason reacted lightning fast, tossing the oars aside and bounding over the opposite side of the boat. He tore across the beach to Michael, sank to his knees by his pretty little doll’s side, and wrapped a steadying arm around him. “It’s okay,” he murmured as Michael lost just about everything that he’d had in his stomach. “I’m here for you.” He could feel the slender body trembling in his grasp as well as sense the overwhelming fear emanating off of him. “All animals do this when they eat something bad,” he said in the attempt to comfort Michael. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Except that there was.

The rice that he’d helped himself to from the Flores’ farm had come from a new crop, and Jason had harvested the turnips and mushrooms earlier that morning. There was nothing wrong with either the rice or the plump turnips and garden variety mushrooms. Plus the chances of getting food poisoning from smoked bacon were very slim. Bad food had nothing to do with Michael’s nausea - _ongoing_ nausea, for this was the fourth day in a row. And it wasn’t just the nausea that Jason was worried about. It was also the mood swings, the lethargy at night - when Michael was usually the most active - and the omega’s muted scent. The morning after Halloween Jason had sensed a change in Michael’s scent, and not a very subtle one at that, but every day after the scent of the omega had become more diluted until there was no way of smelling him at all. Which wasn’t to say that Jason couldn’t find Michael if he needed to. Nothing could interfere with the bond that they had formed with each other after they had mated. But nothing else could anticipate Michael’s approach due to the omega’s stealth-like movements and the fact that he could no longer be detected by scent, even if he were upwind of an animal. What would cause Michael to become virtually invisible to the other creatures in his environment? And why?

“Better now?” Jason rubbed his hand in gentle circles up and down Michael’s back until the heaving subsided.

Unfortunately, Michael was now too weak to answer. He groaned and tipped forward, looking like he might pass out.

Jason lifted Michael up and away from the spot, carrying him over to a soft patch of grass where he would be able to inhale some fresh air. “We have ginger at home.” When Michael gazed up at Jason, his face much paler than usual, Jason tried to keep his expression pleasant and reassuring. “Ginger is good for preventing nausea.” Jason didn’t bother bringing up the fact that Michael had lied about being sick before. The most important thing was making him feel better. Besides, Jason was fully aware of how stubborn his omega tended to be. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Michael lied about a serious injury just to avoid the embarrassment of having to explain how he had gotten it.

“Too late,” Michael moaned. “Stupid bacon.”

So now it was the bacon’s fault? At this rate, there would be nothing left to serve Michael before the month was up. Because Jason was absolutely certain that he knew why his omega was sick. The symptoms would not stop with the removal of bacon from Michael’s diet. Michael would be ill again tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He would continue to feel nauseated late in the afternoon or during the night until his hormone levels readjusted. And there could only be one reason for the elevated hormone levels - Michael was pregnant.

 _Pregnant_! How awful! How had this happened? Michael was a man. Jason knew everything there was to know about Michael’s body. He frequently touched him and made love to him. Had Michael possessed any female body parts, Jason would have found them by now. _Audrey_! The first time Jason had heard Michael’s middle name, he’d been curious. But a multitude of distractions had prevented him from asking more about the odd name choice. Now he was beginning to think that it might have been a forewarning of what Michael’s unique body was capable of producing. Just as Jason had suspected, male creatures did not go into heat. So something - obviously something _feminine_ \- within Michael was responsible for the hormonal changes. And it was those exact same hormonal changes that had made Michael ripe for breeding on Halloween night.

Jason embraced Michael tightly, keeping the omega warm when he began to shiver. They could _not_ have a baby. Especially because Jason knew whose baby it was that Michael was carrying. Maybe it wasn’t even a baby yet. Jason knew nothing about human babies or how long it took for them to form inside the womb. What he did know was that this soon-to-be baby was going to be ugly. Ugly, deformed, and simple-minded. It would possess all of Jason’s worst physical attributes and then some. And, similarly to Jason’s own wrecked childhood, this baby of theirs would be subjected to bullying and unspeakable torment. It would be rejected as a dysfunctional member of society. Maybe someone would even do to it as others had done to Jason. Someone would drown it, beat it, or set it on fire. Those nasty humans would kill Michael and Jason’s baby before it had a chance to grow into an adult. What would such a loss do to Jason? Better yet, what would it do to Michael? It would surely destroy him. No mother should ever have to deal with the loss of her child. How heartbreaking it must have been for Jason’s own mother to have died believing that Jason was dead and gone.

_Mother... what should I do?_

“Jason?”

“Just relax.” Jason withdrew a flask of water from his utility belt and held it up to Michael’s lips to drink.

Michael gratefully took the flask and first rinsed his mouth out with the water. Then he drank a few mouthfuls before passing it back to Jason. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Oh, but _everything_ was wrong. Could Michael even handle knowing that he was pregnant? The shock alone might damage him mentally or emotionally. Perhaps... Perhaps Michael did not need to know. Animals were very sensitive and weak while pregnant. They often kept out of sight or hid in their dens to protect themselves and their young before giving birth. From what Jason understood, it was also remarkably easy to kill the unborn fetus. A nasty fall would be sufficient to eliminate the fetus. The fetus was a very fragile construction, more so during the first trimester. Were Michael to slip and fall on the way back to the cabin...

 _NO_! Jason would never - _could never_ \- do anything to harm Michael. And a little baby Michael... _Jason’s_ baby Michael... _No_! Jason hugged Michael protectively against his chest, now kissing his pretty omega’s porcelain white skin. “It doesn’t have to be ugly,” he blurted out loud.

“Huh? What doesn’t have to be ugly?” Michael tiredly asked in confusion.

“Even if it is ugly, you will still love it,” Jason continued, his voice shaking with emotion. “Because you are you.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you so upset?”

“Because you are sick, but you are not.”

Michael pressed closer against Jason and looked up at him. He was awfully cute when he frowned and pouted, but now he was smiling reassuringly at Jason. Michael had such a beautiful smile. This was Michael’s way of telling Jason not to worry about him, that he was now perfectly fine after having been so terribly sick. “You’re not making any sense.”

“My pretty little doll,” Jason sighed. Anything that came from Michael could not be ugly. It wouldn’t matter what it looked like. Michael would love it, and Jason could not help but love it. “Do you like babies?” Jason loved baby animals. He loved baby squirrels, baby bears, and even baby snakes. But he rarely saw baby humans. The furthest back his memory went was to when he was a toddler. The other children had been cruel to him even at that tender stage of his life. But that didn’t mean that their child would have to grow up that way. Their child would grow up to be gentle and kind, yet strong and powerful. Jason would teach his new baby boy or girl to never bully any of the weaker creatures, whether they be animal or human. At the same time, he would make sure that his child was fully prepared to survive in the world. It could work. Jason would make it work.

“What kind of babies?” Michael casually asked.

Jason tried to contain his growing excitement. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would become a daddy. “All kinds of babies. Cute babies, ugly babies, crying babies.”

“There are no ugly babies,” Michael patiently told Jason. “And, for some reason, babies don’t cry around me.” He inhaled deeply, perhaps to fight off another wave of nausea, and began to carefully scan the tall grass lining the beach. “Did you find a baby?” Of course Michael had no idea why Jason had suddenly brought up the topic of babies. How could he?

Jason lowered his right hand to Michael’s belly, which was still showing no signs of his condition, and lovingly stroked him there. “My Michael is going to have a baby,” he announced matter-of-factly. “ _Our_ baby.”

Dead silence followed Jason’s cheerful announcement. It grew so deathly quiet that Jason could no longer hear Michael breathing. Then, very slowly, Michael began to speak. “Your mother did teach you that babies come from a uterus, did she not?” His voice was no longer light and relaxed. There was now an underlying tension in both his posture and his words. “You said that you loved me because of who I am, but now you’re placing unrealistic expectations on me.”

Sensing the fire that was beginning to ignite Michael’s words, Jason hurriedly attempted to pacify him. “I never expected—.”

But it was already too late. Michael pushed away from Jason and unsteadily got to his feet. “If you had wanted offspring, you should’ve mated with a fertile woman and left me the hell alone!”

“Michael...” It was so unlike Michael to lose his temper and become all emotional. Going berserk and lashing out at people was usually Jason’s job. The drastic shift in the omega’s mood was obviously being caused by the increase in hormones, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to deal with him. “Before, I only wanted you. But... now there is a baby. Can’t I want that, too?”

“There can’t be a baby,” Michael protested. “It’s impossible!”

Jason moved to embrace Michael, but the wild creature easily slipped out of his grasp. If Michael ran off in such a distraught state, that ‘accident’ that Jason had momentarily entertained could become a real possibility. That was now the last thing that Jason wanted. He didn’t want Michael hurt and he didn’t want his baby dead. “You’re sick every day. You’re tired. You’re grumpy. And you ask me to kill people for their desserts. You’re pregnant, Michael. You’re going to have a baby. _Our_ baby,” Jason repeated firmly. The only way to get through to Michael was to put him in his place as the omega. As much as Jason disliked having to use that against his beloved Michael, he would do whatever was necessary to protect both his mate and their unborn offspring. “Now sit down and behave. All this shouting is bad for the baby.”

“I’m not shouting. And there is no baby.” There was now a tremor in Michael’s voice and there were unshed tears in his blue eyes.

Part of Michael’s reaction was because he was afraid, but there was another part that seemed to be in denial. Could the omega have suspected that he was pregnant? Maybe not on the surface but somewhere deep down? Is that why he had hid his nausea from Jason? Because he knew what it indicated?

Reaching out with one hand, Jason took Michael by the arm and pulled him back down. But this time he positioned Michael in his lap so he could hold him still. “Pretty little doll,” he whispered the term of endearment close to Michael’s ear. “Pregnant little doll... It’s because you’re special that you can have a baby. If it comes from you, it will be beautiful.” Already Jason was fantasizing about what their child would look like. “It will have your blue eyes and long eyelashes. And it will have so much curly hair, just like you. Maybe it will even have your cute nose.”

Jason expected Michael to keep denying that he was pregnant, but Michael calmed down quickly. He now seemed to be more interested in Jason’s description of their unborn child than anything else.

“If a baby has been conceived - and I’m not admitting that it has - why would it only resemble me? There would have to be some parts of it that take after you.” As always, Michael was sensitive to Jason’s feelings and automatically got offended whenever Jason put himself down.

“It’s better to have a pretty baby, like a pretty little doll. Nobody will drown a pretty baby.”

“If anyone tries to drown our baby, I’ll slice their throat open and flood the lake with their blood,” Michael threatened, his eyes narrowed and teeth bared like a vicious cat.

Initially, Jason was shocked to hear Michael’s threat, not because he was unused to graphic violence, but because Michael never spoke of his kills. Michael went about his business secretly and quietly so that Jason never knew who had been killed until a search party came out and recovered a body. With Jason it was different. Jason wiped out intruders like a homeowner stamping out cockroaches. He didn’t discriminate when it came to who got targeted or with what death sentence. Michael was much pickier and killed a lot less often than Jason. Occasionally he made one of the intruders disappear, but he was usually content to just leave the policing of their territory to Jason. Apparently, the thought of someone harming their child had struck a nerve with Michael.

“That’s why my eyes have remained blue since Halloween,” Michael said as if an idea had just formed in his head.

“Blue eyes mean pregnant?” Jason asked in confusion. He had given up trying to guess why Michael’s eyes had stopped changing to a much darker color at night. He liked either color so it didn’t matter whether Michael’s eyes were blue or almost black.

“The dark power within me is protecting our baby.”

Jason’s mouth fell open in disbelief when Michael smoothly explained the reason for his blue eyes while also accepting that he was pregnant. “How do you know?”

Michael pushed back the sleeve of his long deerskin jacket and lifted his left arm up for Jason to see. “Because this won’t heal.”

As soon as he saw the long bloody scrape on Michael’s arm running from wrist to elbow, Jason freaked out. He grabbed Michael by the wrist to inspect the damage that had been done to his pretty little doll. “Who did this to you?! When did this happen?!”

“I slipped on the roof two days ago. It should have healed by now, but it hasn’t. In fact, it still hurts.”

All of a sudden, the air became difficult to breathe and a tremendous pounding began to deafen Jason. He realized that it was the sound of his own heart beating maniacally fast. What Michael was describing was a loss of his powers. If he could no longer heal at a supernatural rate, did that mean that he could be killed? By getting Michael pregnant, had Jason unwittingly destroyed his mate’s invulnerability?

“We were just in a fight a few days ago,” Jason cried in alarm. “They had guns!” When Michael remained silent, Jason just about exploded. “You should have told me! What would I do if something happened to you?” He squeezed Michael tightly in anguish. “Foolish, prideful omega!”

“I just didn’t want to worry you,” Michael quietly confessed. “You always worry too much.”

“I should worry more,” Jason grumbled. “My mate and my baby are vulnerable. Targets...” Jason made Michael comfortable on the grass before storming over to the boat. “No more fishing. No more hunting.” He began to drag the boat over to the high grass where he concealed it as best he could. “You will stay home and behave until the baby comes.” He started to erase any signs of the boat tracks with a large branch covered in leaves.

“I’m not staying home for eight months!”

Jason shot Michael a stern glare that put an end to the omega’s willfulness. “You can go out into the garden or walk along the path behind our den - _with me_. But you will not go anywhere someone can see you.”

“But—.”

“If you need to kill someone, I will bring you fresh prey to stab and slash at. If you get too moody, you can draw your favorite Halloween symbols - on the _outside_ of our den. But that’s it.” Jason returned to Michael, helped him up off of the ground, and steered him towards the woods. “And I will make an oven for your cakes. They will be ugly cakes,” he warned, “but they will taste good. Will that make you happy?”

“You’re going to make me cakes?” Michael asked in astonishment. “On top of hunting, fishing and killing - alone?”

“If my pretty Michael wants cakes, I will make cakes,” Jason declared. It wasn’t going to be much of a hardship baking cakes, muffins and cookies. It was the least Jason could do. Because the person who was going to be enduring the most during the pregnancy would not be Jason. Michael was going to be the one coping with hormonal and physical changes. It would be Michael confined to the den for three quarters of a year, not Jason. And the one who would ultimately be forced to give birth - in whatever fashion proved to be the most practical and least painful - would be none other than Michael. Sure, Jason could make cakes. He would sing and dance, too, if it kept Michael happy.

All of a sudden, Michael turned to Jason and hugged him tight. “I love you, Jason.”

Almost immediately, the cloud hanging over Jason’s head dispersed and his face cracked into an elated grin. Michael would never leave him because Michael loved him. Jason enthusiastically returned the embrace, hugging the slender man so aggressively that he ended up lifting him off of his feet. “I love you, my Michael. And I love our baby.”

“I love her, too,” Michael said happily.

“ _Her_?” Jason peered down into Michael’s face in surprise. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

“I just know.” For a fraction of a second, Michael’s eyes darkened as if he were in communication with the power that was protecting the baby, but then they were blue again.

 _A girl?_ How on earth were they going to raise a girl?!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!🎃👻**
> 
> This chapter was originally supposed to have 2 parts, but I have separated the first half so that I could post it in time for Halloween. I’ve also attached something to the end that I’ve been working on for a while. 😍

The lighting in the bedroom was really bad, but the draft coming in through a minor crack in the wall was even worse. Wanting to put as much distance between himself and that crack as possible, Michael dug his heels into the floorboards and pushed backwards. He slid across the floor on his backside, ending up dangerously close to the mini fireplace along the far wall. He would have singed the back of his peach hoody if he hadn’t pulled himself away again in a hurry. He could just imagine Jason growling and stomping around like an angry bear if he discovered more of Michael’s clothing damaged or missing.

Leaning forward again, Michael went back to what he had been doing. There were several long pink slats of wood on the floor in front of him, some still wet with paint, and a pile of tools. Most of them were for carving, but there were also paintbrushes and two jars of paint for the task Michael was currently occupying his time with. He had already finished painting the individual sections of the crib that Jason had expertly measured, cut, and sanded down. There had been no question as to what color the crib would be once Michael had given away the sex of their child. But to leave it all plain and boring seemed like it would convey indifference and a lack of interest to the child, so Michael had taken it upon himself to engrave watchful bats, cheerful pumpkins, and playful ghosts into the sides of the crib, filling in the crevices of his unusually cute artwork with black paint to make the creatures stand out against the lighter base color. The footboard and headboard were propped up against the opposite wall, already boasting a festive gathering of shadowy sprites and their woodland brethren.

Had Michael had a cheerful crib when he was a baby? For the life of him, he couldn’t remember much of his childhood, much less back to a time when he had been too young to defend himself. But he was positive that his parents had never made him anything or put much thought into the necessities that he had been provided with. Was that why he had turned out _different_ from everyone else? Because he hadn’t been pampered and fawned over like his sister Judith? Did it matter why he was unlike everyone else? He was no longer institutionalized, which meant that nobody would come around wishing to interrogate him on his thoughts and actions. But... if that were true, then why was he still bracing himself every day against that exact stressor? Why hadn’t he moved on from it by now? He had freed himself from Smith’s Grove over a year ago, and he’d been living happily with Jason for over a month. Wasn’t that enough time for him to separate himself from his traumatic past?

“Why are you drawing Satanic symbols on our baby’s crib?”

The sound of Jason’s dismayed voice startled Michael into acting impulsively. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was on his feet halfway across the room with the wooden end of the paintbrush pressed in tight against his mate’s jugular.

“ _Michael_?!” Jason reflexively swiped the paintbrush out of Michael’s hand and crushed it in his own. “You almost put a hole in my throat,” he complained in disbelief. Opening his hand again, he let the pieces of broken wood and the clump of bristles fall to the floor.

“I didn’t... I wouldn’t have...” But Michael wasn’t sure if he could have stopped himself if Jason hadn’t blocked his attack. The problem was that Michael wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Wayward hormones were making him sick, extra jumpy, defensive, and overly emotional. Half the time he wanted to take off on a murderous killing spree to block out the nausea and relieve the awful abdominal cramps that had begun to harass him at night. The rest of the time he longed to curl up into a ball on the bathroom floor and tear out his hair crying in frustration.

“Are you okay, my Michael?”

Michael was stunned when Jason gently pressed one large palm against his cheek. Jason was always gentle with him, no matter what he did. And every time Jason treated him kindly after an outburst, Michael felt horrible and guilty.

“No, I’m not okay,” Michael moodily declared, wanting to just shut up and let Jason comfort him. But something in him wouldn’t allow him that simple happiness. Something in him liked to stir up trouble, perhaps in order to push Jason away. Because if he succeeded in getting rid of Jason, then this whole fantasy life that he’d made himself comfortable in would disappear as well, including the baby that he didn’t feel confident in raising. “Why would I be okay after you just insulted my drawing?! I don’t know why you’re so ignorant of Halloween. That drawing on the headboard represents the Celtic festival of Samhain eve. And those are fairies, not demons.”

“Okay, they’re fairies,” Jason said quickly, reaching for Michael’s waist to pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry I made you feel bad about your drawing.”

Swiftly moving backwards so that Jason could not touch him, Michael allowed his posture to become highly defensive. It wouldn’t take much of a transition for it to switch to something more offensive from there. “ _No_!” Michael said testily, warning Jason away with what he hoped was a cold glare. “Don’t patronize me! You called them Satanic symbols. If you think they look Satanic, then our baby is going to think they’re Satanic. Our baby is going to sleep in this wretched pink crib and have nightmares every night.”

“Michael...” Jason opened his mouth to say something but instantly shut it again. What could he possibly say to contradict the truth?

“I’m not fit to be a parent, Jason. I grew up in an insane asylum without the influence of any _parents_. I know nothing about children... or babies... or giving birth. What child would want me for a parent?! My own parents didn’t want me!” By the time Michael began to cry, Jason was already halfway out of the room. No doubt Michael’s mate was disgusted with his weak display of emotions and wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Jason had every right to be repulsed by what Michael really was. Who in their right mind would want a psychopath for a mate? Michael’s thoughts and actions weren’t normal. Michael himself was not normal. By comparison, Jason was more normal than Michael could ever hope to be. Why would a man as kind and caring as Jason want to live forever with some freak who worshipped Halloween all year round? And Michael’s abnormal infatuation with Halloween was only slightly worse than the psychological trauma that he was accosted with on a daily basis. Certain things triggered painful memories for him, and his dreams were often laced with disturbing flashbacks. Surely Jason must be growing tired of all the undesirable drama in his life.

On a few rare occasions when the pressure or stress had grown too much for him, Michael had come close to crying. So he was not entirely unfamiliar with the occasional tear and the strain on his facial muscles. But he had never been so upset in his life that he had actually given into the need to cry. This time the stress was too much. He was so certain that Jason would discard him if he didn’t successfully produce healthy offspring. And he was terrified of what the next eight months would be like for him. What would it be like to go into labor? What if he couldn’t give birth to their baby girl? What if something went wrong? What if she was born dead? What if she died soon after? What if she hated Michael? Michael was rotten and evil, after all. What business did he have giving life to anything?

Michael sank to the floor with his back against the headboard of the crib - the cheerful artwork that he’d spent so long perfecting now seeming dark and tasteless. His whole body was trembling as he fought to control himself. But he couldn’t. All he kept hearing was Loomis calling him inhuman and evil, worthy of no one’s love. And Jason... Jason was gone. He had abandoned Michael just as Peter and Edith Myers had done many years ago. As Michael spiraled deeper into a paralyzing abyss, he absently wondered why his vision had blurred and what manner of creature was whimpering like a pathetic animal. It never occurred to him that tears could impair one’s vision so completely, or that he himself might be capable of making those dreadful noises.

Suddenly, a compact lump of fur was shoved into Michael’s face, and two powerful arms locked around him tightly from his left side. Then he was pulled into Jason’s lap and protectively held there.“Your parents were fools,” Jason breathed by Michael’s ear, his voice a rumble of barely contained anger. “They gave you up because they were weak and cowardly. Or because they didn’t love you. I don’t know why and I don’t care. All I know is that I want you, Michael. I love you. And you love me. That is all that matters. You are good for me and you will be good for our baby.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the flow of tears that were now being absorbed by the soft brown cushion that Jason had thrust into his arms. No, it wasn’t a cushion. It was softer and oddly shaped. What was it? Opening his eyes a fraction so that he could see what it was that Jason had given him, Michael was confused to find a pair of black glass eyes staring back at him.

“It’s a teddy bear,” Jason informed him. “My mother gave me one for my birthday. She told me that teddy bears are a sign of love. So I’m giving you a teddy bear because I love you.” Not giving Michael the chance to say anything negative about the soft toy, Jason sagely went on to explain his reasoning behind the present. “You can practice mothering with the bear. Take good care of it and don’t drop or lose it. When our baby is born, you can give it to her.”

“A teddy bear isn’t going to make me a good parent,” Michael whimpered tearfully.

“No, it won’t,” Jason sighed. “It’s supposed to make you feel better, that’s all.” Squeezing Michael tighter, Jason affectionately kissed his tear streaked cheek. “Our daughter will be very happy to have you as her mother,” Jason said with the utmost confidence. Before Michael could protest about being called a mother, Jason directed his attention to the engravings on the crib. “You say that you don’t know how to be a parent after you’ve decorated our baby’s crib with all these cute animals and fairies. I’m sorry I called your reindeer Satanic. I saw the pointy antlers and panicked... Sometimes you have a strange sense of humor.”

Michael was so happy and relieved to hear Jason call his woodland creatures ‘cute’ that he didn’t bother to point out that the animal in question was an elk and not a reindeer.

“And you’ve been so good this whole week. You haven’t done anything naughty.” Jason began to pet Michael’s hair in a soothing manner. “You care about our baby, Michael. If you didn’t, I know you would be outside doing as you pleased instead of staying home where it’s safe.” When Michael leaned into Jason’s touch, Jason began to wind his fingers in Michael’s sleep-flattened curls. “But you have too much stress. What you need is some rest and warm milk.”

“Milk?” Michael asked dumbly. Milk was the last thing he needed. He had been forced to drink a tall glass of it every morning at the sanitarium, which was probably why he detested the foul liquid so much.

“Every mother needs milk,” Jason stated matter-of-factly. “My mother used to tell me that I turned out the way I did because of not enough milk. She almost never drank it because it tasted bad. But she made me drink it every day to make my bones stronger.”

“I sympathize with your mother. Drinking milk is like ingesting poison.”

“Milk can also help you with your sadness,” Jason suggested with nothing but tenderness in his voice. “My poor little doll is sad every day.” Ducking his head down, Jason kissed Michael’s damp cheek and swiped his thumb under Michael’s left eye to dry the tears there.

“I’m not sad every day,” Michael protested feebly. But he knew that was a lie because he _was_ depressed every single day. In the beginning, the dark power within him had done its best to prepare him for his pregnancy. It had cushioned him from the worst of the nausea and even revealed the sex of his baby so that he would know what she required from him. However, as the days went on and the dark power focused more and more on the baby, the feelings of helplessness and sadness had reached impossible levels. At the same time, the nausea and discomfort had become increasingly unbearable, trapping Michael indoors because he felt too ill to accompany Jason into the garden. He preferred to remain near the fireplace, where it was warm, with a hot cup of tea or a bowl of Jason’s delicious vegetable soup.

“It isn’t so cold today,” Jason began conversationally. “You should come hunting with me.”

That was funny! Nearly two weeks ago, Jason had been adamant about Michael staying indoors or remaining on the property. However, now that Michael was basically refusing to go out at all, Jason wanted him to come hunting? “I’ve seen what you do to the carcasses, Jason. I think that I’ll pass.” Just the thought of a bunch of hot, sloppy intestines being yanked out of a freshly killed boar made Michael’s stomach turn. To banish the image from his mind, he lifted the teddy bear up for closer inspection. It was brown, as most teddy bears probably were. But it was more of a dark velvet brown than a chocolate brown. It was also very soft and floppy, so it toppled over easily. Aside from the black glass eyes, it had a wine red nose, but no mouth. When Michael experimentally pet its head, the entire bear sagged forward.

“Not enough stuffing,” Jason said apologetically. “You can have a different animal if you want. There is a horse, a monkey, and a cartoon rabbit in the storage room. Or there are other soft things with stupid faces.”

Caught off guard by Jason’s blunt description of the other toys, Michael softly laughed out loud. He didn’t laugh often because he was uncomfortable with displaying such a tactless emotion, but Jason had a way of getting him to reveal his innermost self. “No, thank you. I like the bear.” And he honestly did. He didn’t bother to ask Jason where the bear had come from because he wasn’t so naive as to assume that his mate had gone into town just to procure a stuffed animal. What was important was that the bear looked just as sad and needy as Michael felt. Perhaps Michael could spruce the bear up with a black witch’s hat and an orange cape. He could practice making clothes for the bear so that by the time their daughter was born, he would be skilled enough to make her some really nice outfits. That would save them the trouble of having to go into town to _find_ baby clothing. For one thing, they would never get through the front entrance of any baby store, not looking the way they did. For another, they had an unspoken rule to never touch children or parents with young children - under any circumstances. That unfortunately included parents involved in extramarital affairs. However, Michael’s current moodiness had him reconsidering that rule because he despised disloyal mates.

“What are you thinking?” Jason asked.

“I’m going to make Sauin some clothes,” Michael confidently announced.

“Really?” Jason sounded pleased. “Sauin sounds like a nice name for a little girl,” he said cheerfully.

“That’s a horrible name for a child! I would never call our daughter Sauin,” Michael said in horror. “Sauin is what I’m calling the teddy bear.” He tried not to sound too agitated because Jason had no way of knowing that Sauin was how the people on the Isle of Man referred to Samhain.

“Oh.” For a moment, Jason sounded disappointed. But then he perked up again as he realized what Michael had just confessed. “You’re going to make your teddy bear clothes? How wonderful!” He crushed Michael in his arms in a suffocating hug. “My cute omega is going to make his teddy a winter sweater and a pair of booties,” he happily teased.

“It’s not cute. It’s practical,” Michael protested in embarrassment. “I want to make our daughter baby clothes, but I’ve never even sewn before. I’m going to practice on the bear.”

“It’s still cute,” Jason said cheerfully.

“And you had better lower your expectations because I’m going to start with a hat and cape. I wouldn’t know where to begin with making a sweater.”

At the mention of the hat and cape, Jason peered into Michael’s face accusingly. “Will the hat and cape be black and orange?”

“Maybe...”

“Not again!” Jason groaned. “Our baby is going to become a pumpkin! An ugly black and orange pumpkin!”

Again, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Jason’s reaction to his favorite color scheme. “Sauin will be black and orange. Our baby will be pink and yellow,” he promised. “Or maybe peach.”

Jason gave a sigh of relief. “Good! Our baby will grow up without damage to her eyes.”

When Jason leaned in close, Michael automatically let his eyelids flutter shut and parted his lips. Jason never needed much incentive to kiss him, and Michael never refused one of Jason’s kisses. Jason was warm and smelled like smoke. He had probably been out early chopping firewood, which is why both fireplaces were still burning brightly despite the frigid temperature. If Jason was not in a hurry to go somewhere or do something, he kissed Michael slowly and leisurely. Judging by the relaxed way Jason slid his tongue past Michael’s lips, he had plenty of time to spare.

Michael moaned when Jason’s tongue stroked against his own. He twisted around in Jason’s grip so that he could wrap his arms around his mate’s thick torso. Jason was all muscles - his body hard and immovable. And his chest was extremely built, although Michael had no trouble feeling the pounding of Jason’s heart through those impressive pectoral muscles. Michael was sensitive to all sounds and movements, perhaps more so than any other regular human. He had never given that particular skill much thought... until recently. Now that he was pregnant, he was perceiving all sounds and movements as augmented versions of what they would normally be. Perhaps that was part of the defence mechanism that the dark power had blessed him with.

“Stop thinking,” Jason murmured against Michael’s lips, withdrawing his tongue for a brief second before slipping it back in again.

With incentive like that, Michael would gladly stop thinking. He eagerly kissed Jason back, whimpering with need when Jason pushed one hand up the back of his hoodie. Jason’s hand was dry and calloused from his daily activities, as well as a lack of proper skincare. Jason couldn’t be bothered with frivolous things like hand lotion, whereas Michael was never out of the bathroom supply cabinet. Having dry hands irritated Michael just as much as having frizzy curls as a result of skimping on the conditioner. But Michael didn’t mind Jason touching his bare back with those worn out hands of his. If anything, it added to Jason’s wild and rustic appeal. Jason was unapologetically as unrefined and as backwards as they came, and Michael would have him no other way.

Jason continued to kiss Michael until they were both awfully hot and flustered. Then he brushed his lips against Michael’s ear and whispered, “Come hunting with me, my pretty Michael.”

Michael tried his best to keep a straight face but ended up laughing at Jason’s efforts at seduction. “You’re on the verge of bursting the seams of your pants because you want me to come hunting with you?” He asked incredulously as he palmed Jason’s obvious erection through the fabric of those tough work pants.

Jason did not laugh. Instead he traced the curve of Michael’s ear with his tongue and breathed hotly into it. “You _will_ come hunting with me, stubborn omega. I’m going to teach you how to stay warm outside during the winter months.”

“Jason, no,” Michael protested. Jason couldn’t possibly want to do _that_ outside, could he? Michael wouldn’t want to do that outside on a warm summer’s day, never mind a freezing cold winter’s one. And Jason thought that Michael was the one with the deranged sense of humor. It was Jason - not Michael - who was out of his mind.

“Oh, yes, Michael.” Jason’s hand was now pushing down into the back of Michael’s pants. “We can do it up against a tree, or with you on your back on the ground. But I _am_ going to have you one way or the other.” He casually withdrew his hand only to slap Michael cheekily on the ass. Then he was getting up from the floor, not bothering to dust himself off as he stepped out into the hallway. “Get your coat, hat and mittens.” As an afterthought, he added, “I’ll get the lube.”

Michael stared after Jason for a few moments, trying to talk himself out of the foolishness that he knew he could not resist. He absolutely did not want to go outside. But he wanted Jason in the worst way. Could he wait until Jason got home later on? “ _Manipulative, bossy alpha_ ,” Michael muttered under his breath. No, he could not wait and Jason knew that. Being pregnant and so easily aroused meant that Michael was at Jason’s mercy. Like it or not, Michael was going to be spending the whole wretched day outside, literally freezing his ass off.

Leaving Sauin propped up on his pillow on the bed, Michael gathered up his accursed puffy winter coat, as well as the woolly hat and matching gloves, from the bedside chair. Giving the fireplace one last forlorn look, Michael stalked off after his mate.

_**I’m still working on improving my drawing / app skills. Hopefully this last pic looks better than the previous ones.**_ 😅


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning for very graphic violence in this chapter!**

“Michael, get back to our den! RUN! _NOW_!”

Run? The whole one and a half miles? While he was feeling queasy and lightheaded? “I’ll never make it back into the woods,” Michael protested. There was nothing but open air between the heavily treed area they had sought cover in to its mirrored duplicate on the other side of the field. It didn’t matter that a thick darkness was descending with the incoming evening because open air was still open air. Even the worst gunman would have no trouble picking Michael off before he made it to the other side. Whatever had been in the field had long ago been harvested because the ground was barren and parched. There would be nothing to shield him from the bullets that continued to randomly blast into the tree trunks surrounding them. And those bullets were getting a lot closer as the men who were shooting at them began to advance.

“I’ll protect you until you’re safely in the woods,” Jason promised. “After that, you _will_ run.”

“What are you going to do?” Michael asked nervously, trying really hard not to panic. But there were bullets involved. It would only take one lucky shot to either kill Michael or terminate his pregnancy. Just the thought...

“Tear those bastards apart,” Jason replied with sheer hatred. He pulled his hockey mask down over his face and gripped his machete so tightly it looked like he wanted to choke it. “Whatever happens, don’t stop,” he warned. “I can’t be killed by bullets, so don’t be frightened when I get shot.”

Michael couldn’t help but tense up because Jason had said _when_ instead of _if_. While he was aware that Jason was supernaturally strong and miraculously recovered no matter what was done to him, Michael had never seen his mate actually take a bullet. Jason rarely gave his enemies the opportunity to attack him as he preferred to dispose of them as quickly and as brutally as possible. But these men - these hired guns who were obviously after Michael - had gotten the drop on them. Michael supposed that he should be grateful that they had started shooting _before_ Jason had initiated the outdoor lovemaking that he’d threatened back at the cabin.

“I can come back with your guns,” Michael offered as he leaned in hard against the tree, preparing to spring away from it.

“You don’t even know how to fire them,” Jason grumbled. “Stubborn omega, refusing to learn how to properly defend yourself.”

“The firing mechanism on a gun is not overly complicated,” Michael said defensively. “I can figure it out.” Then under his breath he added, “Not that I want to. Guns are so indirect and barbaric.”

“Forget it, Michael. You go home. You stay home.” Having given his last order, Jason grabbed Michael and dragged him out of the treed area and into the firing range. Keeping his back to their enemies, he shielded Michael with his much larger, bulkier form.

Almost immediately, the bullets began to rain down on them. They blew apart the dry dirt at their feet, whizzed past their ears, and eventually began to strike Jason in the back.

“Jason!” Michael instinctively hugged Jason around the waist and attempted to pull him to the ground. He didn’t like the way those metal slugs slammed into the body of the man whom he loved. And he certainly didn’t like the way Jason grunted when an uncharacteristically large bullet - or was it even a bullet? - buried itself in his mate’s flesh.

“Keep moving!” Jason commanded, physically forcing Michael to cross the remaining distance to the woods on the far side. “Now _run_!” He shoved Michael in the one direction while he himself took off in another.

Michael hoped that Jason would be alright as he tore through the woods, straying from the regular path and weaving through the trees in a southerly direction. It would be more difficult for anyone to follow him if he didn’t return home directly. The foliage within what Jason considered to be his property was overgrown and neck high. Moving through it felt like being physically harassed by someone’s brittle laundry. Michael’s clothing caught on sharp branches, large dry leaves slapped him in the face, and vines attempted to trip him up if he didn’t lift his legs high enough. He usually wasn’t bothered by the majestic jungle that Jason had chosen to live in, but that was only because he tended to move more gracefully than he was doing now. It seemed like his panic was turning his environment against him. Even his breathing was uncomfortably audible in his ears, blocking out any and all other noises. He wanted to remove the mask to let in some fresh air, but he didn’t dare for he had no idea what was behind him.

At a familiar bloodied stump, Michael paused to get his bearings. The stump was wide and the tree trunk beside it covered with steel hooks. This is where Jason butchered their meat and hung up the individual pieces as he separated everything according to purpose. Before Michael had moved in, Jason had been doing all that in the kitchen. However, when Michael became violently ill one day upon witnessing the bloody activity, Jason had moved his butchering station out into the woods. Jason was nothing if not thoughtful and considerate.

 _Another quarter mile east..._ Michael quickly crouched down between the two trees that marked the path that he was to follow. Reaching behind the one on the right, he unwrapped a thin wire from its peg and carefully pulled it over to the tree on the left. He then wrapped the wire tightly around the hidden peg on that tree. Wasting no more time, he hopped over the wire and raced for the cabin.

Just as Michael was about to reach the front door of the cabin, his sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of a hundred sharp objects sailing through the air. Then there was a scream. Then silence. Hopefully only the one man had been behind Michael. If not, well, there were many more traps where that came from. Jason was forever building traps and drilling Michael on how to avoid or trigger them. Jason was a skilled hunter whether the prey be animal or human. But when Jason lost his temper... Michael could only imagine what Jason was doing to the men he had lured away.

Once Michael was inside the cabin, he locked and bolted the door. He didn’t have to bother arming any of the traps within their home because they never got disarmed. He knew where they all were and how to trigger them, if necessary. But he wouldn’t have to worry about that because Jason would—.

Two sounds cut into Michael’s train of thought at once. The first was the sound of someone wrenching the doorknob of the front door. The second came from the back door. Someone was trying to kick it in. How many men had Jason allowed to get past him? Or a better question might be, _why_ had these men gotten past Jason? After all the lecturing that Jason had forced Michael to endure on steering clear of danger, it didn’t make sense for the man to let two lethal enemies with guns get by him. Was Jason okay?

Michael stole a quick glance at the shotgun propped up by the front window. He silently cursed himself because Jason was right. He couldn’t use it. But he doubted it would have mattered even if he could. The cabin was too small to allow for much maneuvering. Handguns may have been more practical, but a shotgun required the shooter to temporarily expose himself.

 _Should I disarm it?_ If Michael himself could not use the shotgun, he should probably make sure that nobody else could either. But before he could move towards it, the sound of a bullet blasting into the door lock sent him rushing for the bedroom.

Michael hated moving about in a panicked frenzy. He liked to take his time with things and proceed at his own natural pace. He also discovered that he hated the thought of anyone invading his personal living quarters. This was his home with Jason. Nobody else other than Jason ought to be in it. And yet there were now heavy boots scuffing around inside the kitchen. A second later, the front door caved in and another pair of boots began to thud around the entranceway.

Breathing even harder and quicker now, Michael ripped off his mask and flung it onto the bed. He hastily unzipped his coat next and pulled it off. Despite the chill that he felt when removing the coat, he pulled the hoodie up and off immediately afterwards. Now he was only dressed in a pair of black jeans and a long sleeve black t-shirt. Given his sensitivity to the cold, his body began to automatically shiver in the drafty room. Ignoring the discomfort, Michael pulled back on his mask and reached under the pillow. Withdrawing his trusty kitchen knife - the one he used for killing, which wasn’t to be confused with the one Jason used for preparing their meals - Michael carefully placed it on the floor. Then he stuffed the pillow, the coat and the hoodie under the blankets, shaping it like a humanoid bundle. Picking up Sauin the teddy bear, Michael slid him under the bed. Afterwards, he flattened himself against the floorboards on his belly and followed the bear into that tight space, grabbing the handle of the knife and pulling it in with him. Now all that he would need to do was wait. Wait until the two men stalking him were taken out by Jason’s traps.

From the hallway, a resounding chopping noise shook the thin walls as one of Jason’s many axes flew free from its hiding spot. But no scream followed. A second later, a spearhead embedded itself in the floorboards. Still no scream. Only the sound of heavy boots advancing.

Michael gripped the knife handle harder, forcing himself to breathe shallower and quieter. He was scared. Unnaturally so. This fear was alien to him as he was unaccustomed to worrying about his own personal safety or that of his unborn child. While he had been hunted before, it had been on his own terms. He preferred to always remain in control of the situation, leaving nothing up to chance. He stalked his prey - always. Even when the prey he was stalking seemed to think it was the other way around. And he always confronted the enemy in _their_ homes or in neutral territory. Never before had the enemy decided to take the fight to him.

Michael gasped aloud when the hallway light came on followed by the one in the kitchen. This was no good. He functioned much better in the dark. It would be much more difficult to find or shoot him in the dark. _There’s too much light._ The night outside was covered in a thick gauze of blackness. But inside... Michael felt like he was being suffocated by the warm glow of the fireplaces and the sickly yellow light coming from the lightbulbs Jason had been on the verge of replacing. The lights had to go - all of them. Concentrating hard, Michael summoned the dark power within him, accessing the only part of it that was not being used to protect his baby. The tendrils of darkness that were in his mind had been left untouched as they were useless to the baby. They only activated a power that directly affected Michael’s immediate environment. It was a power that Michael occasionally used when he was feeling in a playful mood. When he had first used it, he wrongfully assumed that it was a form of telekinesis. Why would he have thought otherwise when it gave him the ability to open and close doors or knock around hanging bodies? But after many attempts at mastering the power, he had discovered that it was something akin to air displacement and not straightforward telekinesis. By manipulating the air, he could blow doors and windows open and shut. He could also move fairly light objects that were not obstructed by anything else. And although he had never experimented with fire before, perhaps he could...

A surge of energy escaped Michael without warning, leaving his arms tingling and his fingers numb. He couldn’t see anything happening, but he could hear a gust of wind whip through the room. The fire in the bedroom fireplace was instantly extinguished, and Michael sensed rather than saw the one in the living room go out a second later. Before he could register the startled curse of the man who was in the kitchen, Michael targeted every light switch in the building. As if on command, every light in the house simultaneously went out.

“Creepy motherfucker!” The man in the hallway spat in a fury.

Yes, Michael was undeniably creepy. Even Jason thought so, although Michael’s alpha seemed to enjoy the parlor tricks. Michael rarely used the power because he couldn’t think of any practical application for it. After today, he figured that he was going to go to the trouble of honing it because it wasn’t so useless after all.

“You can hurt him, but don’t kill him!” Another male voice warned from the kitchen.

That was not a comforting thought because the word _hurt_ could encompass quite a lot of damage. And without the dark power protecting him, Michael imagined that just about any form of attack or torture would hurt.

The temperature in the room dropped further when the man from the hallway entered the bedroom. He was holding some type of gun in both hands and squinting to see in the darkness. Michael could see just fine, even though he was flat on the floor and his limbs cramped to hell. Michael could sense the animosity wafting off of the man as he approached the bed. He would not obey orders. This man wanted Michael dead. Well that was fine because Michael wanted him dead just as badly. As soon as the man was close enough, he aimed his gun at the lumpy figure supposedly hiding under the blankets. Unfortunately for him, Michael was faster. Slashing out at the man with deadly force, Michael cut just above the top of those black boots, severing both of the man’s Achilles tendons. The howl that left the man was inhuman, but Michael tolerated it, knocking the man to the ground with one sharp kick to his disabled legs. All he needed to do after that was plunge his blade into the man’s throat to silence him. Several shots rang out from the man’s gun as he fired blindly at the spot where Michael had been. Even in death, his finger continued to squeeze the trigger until Michael yanked the weapon away from him.

Not giving the man in the kitchen the opportunity to ambush him, Michael slipped out into the hallway and retreated to the front room. However, as he neared the end of the hallway he noticed that the front door had been left open, and standing in it was another man brandishing a gun. Without thinking, Michael thrust a wave of air at the door with his mind, causing it to slam shut in the intruder’s face.

Three men. All loose. Where was Jason?

Michael rushed into the front room just as a round of bullets were discharged into the door. His abnormally sharp instincts had him bringing up his arms in self defence just as he was rounding the corner. Still, the punch from the unseen man in the front room came too close to his face, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking him into the far wall.

Four men?! There was no way that Jason had let that many get by him! Now going out of his mind with worry over Jason, Michael slashed out at this unexpected annoyance. He managed to carve a pretty deep U shape from the man’s left cheek to his right before he jumped back to avoid being pistol whipped across the face. But he didn’t go far so as not to give the man the space he required to aim that gun. Again Michael slashed out at the man, this time opening up a deep diagonal wound from collarbone to hip. And again he gracefully sidestepped the vicious counterattack that now took the form of a jagged blade attempting to gouge him in the chest.

“Don’t kill him, you idiot!”

Michael did not turn to look at the man who had come in from the back door. There were too many men and not enough breathing space.

“Why don’t you help me out so that I won’t have to?!” Michael’s opponent shouted angrily.

“Just grab him and hold him still. Nobody’s leaving until he’s been sterilized.”

 _Sterilized_?! All the blood drained from Michael’s face when he was grabbed from behind and a syringe appeared within his peripheral vision. It was at that point that he stopped thinking and started reacting. There were to be no more games. No more artistic knifemanship or tasteful attacks. There would only be death and slaughter.

Yanking his knife arm free from the man behind him, Michael brought it down on the man in front in an overhead strike. The blade crudely punctured the man’s left eye and gouged into his sinuses. If Michael’s first victim’s screams had been awful, this second one’s were torturous. Michael disliked to hear such sounds as they disturbed the peace and quiet that he favored while killing. But any killing he did tonight would be solely for the sake of survival. He could worry about the noise and grotesque wounds afterwards.

Escaping deeper into the cluttered front room to avoid the syringe that the man behind him attempted to pierce him in the abdomen with, Michael dropped to the floor and discarded his knife. In its place he picked up the bloody pitchfork that Jason left lying around _in case of an emergency._ But instead of aiming it at the man with the syringe, he swung it full force at the man who had snuck in through the front door while he was distracted. More screams followed as he embedded three of the metal prongs in the man’s face. He had already come to the conclusion that it was a waste of time to aim for the torso unless he was certain he could destroy the organs that it housed. It was much quicker, although a lot nastier, to take out the eyes or crush the skull. He had to credit Jason with that piece of information because it never would have occurred to him before watching his merciless alpha in action.

From across the room, a gun was raised and bullets fired, but Michael sent them flying astray with the sheet of wind that he temporarily erected in front of himself.

“Don’t take it personal,” the last man pleaded, quaking with fear when he ran out of bullets and Michael traded the pitchfork for a speargun. “Our orders were to stop you from breeding and take you in. No one was supposed to get killed.” He glanced over at his comrades who were twitching spasmodically on the floor. They were already incapacitated so Michael would not waste anymore time with them. They didn’t deserve a quick death anyway.

“Stop me from _breeding_?” Michael never spoke. He never uttered a word when stalking his prey, not even when he was about to dispose of them. He spoke to no one except for Jason. But his voice was shaking with rage as he aimed the speargun in his enemy’s direction. The man might have been a hiker or a hunter for the way he was dressed. They all might have been if not for their sadistic motives for tracking him down and attacking him. “You came here with the sole intention of murdering my baby,” he accused with a hatred that he could not contain.

“Your baby?” The man repeated in dismay. “So you _are_ pregnant!”

Needing to eliminate this threat of a man as quickly and as violently as possible, Michael shot him in the face with the spear. Or at least that’s where he meant to shoot him. Not having any experience with the weapon, he ended up directing the spear into the man’s rib cage instead. Down the man went with a crash, just as Michael was lashed across his right shoulder when the weapon whipped back at him. Jason had told him that it was meant to be fired in water, but Michael never understood why. Well now he knew the reason for the warning.

Retrieving his knife from the floor, Michael knelt down by the man who was still clutching that ominous syringe in his hand. He emotionlessly watched the man attempt to jab him with it once more, despite having the shaft of a spear protruding from his body.

“Something evil... like you... can’t be allowed to... reproduce,” the man chanted what he had obviously been brainwashed to believe.

Michael was _not_ evil. Dark, perhaps, but not the abominated curse that Loomis and so many others labeled him as. Jason was forever telling Michael that he was beautiful and special, and that was what Michael had begun to believe. And there was nothing evil or dirty about the baby that had been conceived out of love.

Holding his knife aloft with both hands, Michael drove it down and into the man’s heart with extreme malice. He would not allow any threat to either him or his baby to go unpunished. With that thought in mind, he slit the throats of the other two men in the room. Only when he was sure that they were dead did he return to the bedroom.

The adrenaline that had kept his senses and reflexes sharp during the past few minutes began to seep out of him along with his body heat. Now that the fires had been put out, the frigid cold air from outside eagerly leaked inside. Stepping over the corpse by the bed, Michael removed his mask and quickly pulled on both his hoodie and coat once more. On went the mask again before he removed his mittens from his pockets. He couldn’t hold his knife if he got frostbite on his fingers.

Outside it was deathly silent and much darker than when Michael had come running back to the cabin. How long ago had that been? Thirty minutes? Forty? Neither he nor Jason wore a watch or kept track of the time so it was impossible for Michael to judge the passing of time with the stress he was under.

“Jason?!” Michael called out into the darkness. All the intruders had been dealt with, hadn’t they? It wouldn’t be so quiet if they hadn’t. But if there was nothing else out there, then why wasn’t Jason coming to see if Michael was okay.

“... into pieces...”

“... burn it...”

There were voices coming from the butchering stump where Michael knew Jason spent most of his afternoons. Neither voice belonged to Jason.

Creeping closer, Michael clutched his knife in preparation to attack... and froze. There on the butchering stump was something that he thought he would never see - Jason’s broken and lifeless body. His mate was lying prone on the stump with his arms and legs splayed on either side of him. His jacket was full of bullet holes and his limbs were drenched with blood. Part of the back of his skull was crushed in from something heavy. Perhaps a rock or a shovel. And a length of wire was wrapped tightly around his throat, slicing into it. Michael couldn’t see Jason’s face but he could imagine... He could imagine what...

A strangled cry erupted in the night, so wretched and horrible that it caused the men standing over Jason to shriek with terror. They were hunched over what Michael considered to be the guardian of Crystal Lake, preparing to hack him to pieces with an axe and Jason’s dropped machete.

Michael screamed again and flung himself at the men, tears blinding his vision as he lashed out at them. Jason wasn’t dead! _Couldn’t_ be dead! What was Michael going to do without his mate? His lover? The father of his unborn child? Jason had promised that bullets wouldn’t stop him, _couldn’t_ stop him! Why had he lied?! Why had he left Michael alone?!

Michael slashed out at the man with the axe, ramming his blade into the man’s ear and ripping it out through the man’s face. Pulling it back again, he repeatedly stabbed the man in the forehead in quick succession before—.

Michael’s head exploded with agony as he was struck from behind. He had no time to berate himself for his own carelessness, desperately trying to hold onto his knife as he collapsed to his hands and knees. But when he blinked to clear the dizziness from his vision, the knife was no longer in his hand and he was now on his back. He was panting feverishly, his stressed breathing fogging up the cold air inside of the mask. He barely realized that he was crying and pleading with Jason to wake up, so devastated with the thought of the one person he loved more than life itself being dead that he forgot about the other man. He was exhausted, emotionally wrecked, and in pain. He couldn’t catch his breath and he felt unbelievably nauseated. The air surrounding him was too cold and vast for him to manipulate.

It had all been for nothing. The _mating_ , the cozy household he had grown accustomed to, and Jason’s dreams of a happy family that Mrs. Voorhees would be proud of. In the place of that bright future was the knowledge that Michael was going to be murdered with the last image in his mind being that of Jason’s partially desecrated corpse.

“You’re nothing but an _animal_ ,” the man spat at Michael as he raised the machete - Jason’s machete - above his head. “Science project or no science project, you’re too dangerous to be allowed to live.”

What was it like to die? Michael had never wondered because death didn’t personally fascinate him. But now that he was on the verge of dying, he was filled with sorrow and fear. Would he never see Jason again? Would this be the end of their baby?

Quickly but silently, a shadow rose up from the ground to engulf both Michael and his attacker in blackness. Was the moon now being overlapped by clouds? Or was Michael’s vision failing him? All he saw was that black and red shadow, something thick like syrup coating it from top to bottom. _Blood_. The man turned to look over his shoulder as the shadow continued to grow, its arms lifting up and away from its body as its mighty paws seized the head before it. Then there was a cracking sound, which was quickly followed by unholy screams of agony. All Michael could do was gaze up at what was happening without being able to fully process it. The shadow - the beast of a man - was tearing the man’s skull apart. Or at least that’s what it looked like. Michael had never seen anything so sickening before in his life. If he hadn’t felt so weak... If he hadn’t been so upset...

The last thing Michael could recall before passing out was the image of a spinal column being snapped to pieces between two large torn up hands, and one hellish blood covered eye peering down at him with worry.


	18. Chapter 18

_“You chose a fine mate, Jason. So young and full of spunk. Mighty handsome, as well.”_

“He’s pretty, Mother, just like a porcelain doll - all perfect and white.”

_“Pretty it is then, my boy. He’ll give you a beautiful heir one day.”_

“One day?” Jason looked past his mother in a daze. The sun had just come up over the lake, flooding it with its brilliance and temporarily blinding him. Yellow beams of light reflected off of the lake’s surface to bounce back and hit his mother. Those warm sunbeams ought to have lit his mother up like an ethereal goddess. However, no matter how high the sun rose or how much sunshine Pamela Voorhees absorbed, her entire silhouette remained black.

_“He’s young and fertile, isn’t he?”_

Jason was confused. He clearly remembered rushing to bring his mother the good news soon after he himself had found out. He had told her in detail how he had gotten Michael pregnant and how they were now expecting a baby girl. How could his mother have forgotten such an important conversation?

Looking down, Jason squinted as he attempted to focus on his mother’s face. She was standing in front of him - a tiny creature in comparison to the hulking offspring she had given birth to - and staring down into the depths of the lake. It was funny because every time they came down to the pier, she always kept her attention above the horizon. Pamela Voorhees had never been very enthusiastic about the water, or Crystal Lake, which is probably why she had neglected to teach Jason how to swim.

“Mother, my pretty little doll is already pregnant,” Jason said in a bit of a questioning tone. “We’re going to have a baby girl. I thought I—.”

 _“Oh, how wonderful!”_ Although her voice was full of excitement, she still did not look up from the water. _“You’re going to have to become a lot more vigilant from now on,”_ she warned. _“The man of the family has to look after his mate and child. And if it’s of your blood, there’s a possibility your baby might turn out like you.”_

Knowing that his mother meant no offence, Jason simply nodded. “Michael will love our baby no matter what. He’ll make a good mother.” After a moment’s hesitation, Jason shyly added, “Like you were.”

There was a hint of a smile on Pamela Voorhees’ lips, although it might as easily have been a grimace. It was hard to tell because her back was to Jason and she was oh so small. Even smaller than Michael. Her nest of permed hair had grayed over the years and her face was now lined with wrinkles. Still, she looked pretty damn good for her age! How old was she supposed to be? Sometimes Jason had a difficult time remembering his own age. If it weren’t for the sacred day of Friday the 13th, he would definitely forget to keep track of the passing of the years. Every Friday the 13th Jason celebrated another birthday and his mother aged another year. So how long had Jason been celebrating and how many years had his mother advanced in age?

 _“I did my best, but I never claimed to be perfect, Jason.”_ What followed was a bit of a sigh. _“Like mother, like son.”_

“What does that mean, Mother?” The sun was descending again and taking away all of the surrounding warmth with it. Hadn’t the sun just risen? Why was it leaving again so soon?

 _“You turn your back for one second and the child you dedicated your life to is suddenly gone,”_ she said wistfully. When she turned to look up at Jason, the truth of the matter hit him. His mother’s face could absorb no sunlight because she had no head. The image that Jason had in his mind was just that - an image. His own imagination had helped fill in the blanks, but there was no getting around the fact that Pamela Voorhees was nothing but a decapitated incomplete specter.

Before Jason could react in horror to the situation, reliving the nostalgic nightmare that had set him on the path that he now trod on, Pamela Voorhees - the _spirit_ of Pamela Voorhees - spoke again. This time her voice was cold as steel and reprimanding.

 _“You turned your back, Jason. Your pretty mate and your unborn child are about to be slayed.”_ Her headless silhouette grew larger, her voice emanating from all around him as her tone became urgent and critical. _“Don’t disappoint me, Jason. Defend my son-in-law and my granddaughter, as you have sworn to do!”_

With a rush of air and a gasp of horror, Jason awoke on the butchering stump to a scream of anguish. It was so mournful and wild that he almost didn’t recognize the creature making it. What would cause his beautiful mate to make such a horrid sound? What was being done to Michael and how could Jason have allowed it to happen? He had underestimated the enemy and it had cost him dearly. What he was dealing with were not more stupid campers or halfway ignorant hunters. These were trained assassins who had but one goal in mind - to capture Michael. Jason was nothing but an obstacle to them, which is why they had ambushed him with guns, steel wire, blades and darts filled with poison. He might have recovered easily from the bullet wounds and the darts, but the steel wire had severed the arteries on both sides of his neck, and the shovel he had been whacked with from behind had cracked his skull. Those injuries required a lot more time to recover from, especially due to the fact that they had been inflicted on him nearly simultaneously. But he couldn’t afford to wait around while the bleeding stopped and his cells began to regenerate themselves. He needed to help Michael—.

The instant that Jason opened his blood coated eyes and saw Michael in his peripheral vision, his heart clenched. He witnessed Michael being struck on the back of the head with the butt of a pistol. He watched as Michael collapsed to his hands in knees, swaying from exhaustion and dizziness. His horror multiplied the second that Michael fell forward - unconscious - and the enemy rushed in to relieve him of his knife. Then, as Jason was struggling to pull his body up off of the bloody stump, he saw something he had hoped and prayed would never happen during the entire nine months that Michael was carrying their child. He saw a second armed man march into view, lift up his foot, and kick Michael in the abdomen - hard.

“Try reproducing now, you little bitch,” the man spat as Michael cried out in pain.

Jason tore his bloodied and ruined body off of the butchering stump in a hellish fury, ignoring the blood that poured down his face and the way his organs threatened to spill out of the gaping hole an ax had made of his chest.

“You’re nothing but an _animal_ ,” the man viciously told Michael. “Science project or no science project, you’re too dangerous to be allowed to live.” To prove his point, he raised his machete - _Jason’s_ machete - above his head and prepared to destroy Michael with it. Unfortunately, Jason was faster.

Grabbing the man by his skull, Jason wrestled with him, mercilessly indenting flesh and bones with his powerful fingers as he tightened his grip. All the while the man shouted and made awful sounds that indicated just how agonizing it was to have something penetrating your skull. Jason’s lips pulled back in a sadistic grin as he ripped the man’s skull apart like a watermelon. He had been blind before but now, thanks to his mother, his eyes were open. Stabbing and slashing would not be enough for these bastards to get the message. What he needed to do was tear them apart, limb from limb, and leave evidence of the slaughter for future intruders to find. There would be no more hiding of the bodies. No more stealth and secrecy. From now on, Jason would litter his territory with gore and welcome those that stumbled upon it. Welcome them to their deaths.

From his left side, Jason felt a round of bullets punch into his shoulder, neck and temple. Amazingly, he felt no pain, nor did the attack slow him in any way. Instead, it fuelled his anger, forcing him to move faster as he disposed of his first victim and went for the next. The second man was so indignant over his fallen comrade that he continued to shoot at Jason until Jason was upon him. From there, it didn’t take long for Jason to tear out his spinal column with brutal efficiency and snap it into pieces.

“ _Don’t be careless!”_

“I’m not, Mother.” Jason whirled around and checked his surroundings to make sure that nobody would sneak up on him. Not this time. Never again.

_“You’re falling apart, my boy. My poor, sweet Jason.”_

“It doesn’t hurt. I always heal.”

 _“This time won’t be like the others,”_ she warned. _“This time is different.”_

There was no time for educating him on the philosophy of life - not now. Michael was too still. “ _Michael_!”Jason dropped to his knees before Michael and hastily checked for his pulse. It was weak but still rhythmic. But what about the baby?

_“You always come back, my boy. But this time you have not. Not one-hundred percent.”_

“I don’t understand,” Jason declared in frustration, already drawing Michael into his arms. “Can’t you see that I have to look after my Michael?” He glared up at his mother... only to find nothing in the immediate vicinity other than body parts and strewn weapons. Where had she gone? And why was he angry with her? It was okay for him to lose his temper with others but never with his mother. So why did he feel angry enough to kill her?

_“You left a part of you over on this end, Jason. And in return, you brought something back with you. My dear boy... the hardships... never ending.”_

“ _Not now!”_ Jason roared as he desperately shoved his hand up under Michael’s undershirt. Through the layers of clothing, he hadn’t been able to feel the life of his child, but now that his palm was resting gently on Michael’s bare skin he could sense a faint energy. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure that the baby’s energy was hard to read because of the dark power protecting it. But what good was it if it left Michael unprotected in the heat of battle? Why even give Michael such a power if it just intended to abandon him in his greatest time of need? “Michael? What should I do?” Killing and destroying Jason was good at, but rescuing and healing he had no experience with. Was it okay to move his mate? What if Michael was bleeding internally? Would Michael die if the baby died, or vice versa? “Mother?” He called out in desperation.

Nothing.

Only silence and the constant pitter-patter of blood drops splattering on the leafy ground.

There was nothing Jason could do in the woods. It was freezing cold and would just get colder as the night progressed. His pretty little doll was extra sensitive to the cold and, if such traits were inherited, their pretty baby was probably uncomfortable as well. Jason would not allow Michael or their baby to freeze to death.

When Jason leaned forward to scoop Michael up into his arms, he felt something loosen inside of him. Losing internal organs on the way home or having them spill onto his mate would not be pleasant for either of them. So Jason took the time to strip one of the corpse’s of its shirt, using it to secure his rib cage. He tied the man’s jacket around his torso overtop the shirt, binding the material as tightly as he dared without cracking more of his ribs. Then he carefully lifted Michael up off of the ground and began the short trek back to the cabin.

_They followed him home!_

That was Jason’s first thought when he saw the front door of the cabin wide open with the lock blown off. He had thought that grabbing one of the men and torturing him to death would have been enough to keep all of their enemies’ attention on him and away from Michael. He had thought wrong. Apparently, several of the men had willingly sacrificed a comrade in order to pursue Michael.

Holding Michael tighter in his arms, Jason cautiously stepped into the cabin while keeping an eye out for anything that his omega might have overlooked or left alive. Although his vision was partially obscured by blood, he had no trouble locating the three bodies in the front room. He quickly assessed the damage, coming to the conclusion that all three were fatalities.

 _Pitchfork to the face... throat slashed. Knife to the eye... throat slashed. Spear to the chest..._ Jason paused to get a good look at the punctured hole in the breast of the third victim. He had seen Michael’s kills before and none of these resembled the style in which his pretty doll serenely ended the lives of his prey. The last one in particular was uncharacteristically gory. Judging by the circumference and depth of the wound, Michael had undoubtedly plunged the blade in to the hilt... and then twisted it to cause the man more pain and suffering.

“I should have been there to protect you,” Jason growled angrily. “My pretty little doll... our innocent little baby...” There was no response from Michael other than his labored breathing. “I’ll warm you up soon, my Michael,” he promised as he carried his mate into the hallway. It was there that he noticed that the light switch was not working. The one in the bedroom was broken as well. Who had tampered with the electricity - their enemies or Michael? And why were both fires extinguished?

_“Babies need warmth, Jason. There is not much warmth left in your mate.”_

“Mother?” Jason made his way to the bedroom, figuring that it would be the fastest to heat due to its small size. He could also close the door to keep the heat in and the chilly winter wind out. The nights were always worse than the days when it came to the windchill and the temperature drop. “Bastard intruder!” Jason cursed when he came across the corpse in the bedroom. How dare those maniacs barge into his home, assault his mate, and defile their bedroom?!

 _“First the fire and then the body,”_ Pamela Voorhees’ discorporate voice said insistently.

Laying Michael down on the bed, Jason worked quickly at lighting and rebuilding the fire. As he stoked it higher and higher with kindle, he felt tempted to throw the unwelcome body into the roaring flames. He ought to throw them all in there and watch their flesh slowly melt off their bones. It was too bad that the smell would become too toxic to inhale. He would not subject Michael to nauseous fumes, not in their own bedroom.

“Watch my Michael, Mother. I need to dump the bodies outside.”

_“You’re such a good boy, Jason. Always cleaning up after yourself.”_

Trusting that his mother would keep an eye on Michael, Jason hefted the body over his shoulder and stomped back down the hallway. When he reached the front room, he randomly picked up another body and carried the two of them outside. He dumped them both a distance from the cabin before returning for the remaining two. Let the wolves fight each other over the carcasses during the night. Jason didn’t care what became of the bodies, so long as they stopped bothering him.

On his way back in, Jason did his best to bolt the front door with what was left of the pitchfork. It wouldn’t do to have any of those wolves, or any other predators, wandering in during the night.

“Michael, are you awake?” Jason rushed back to the bedroom, his expression darkening when he found his mate alone and shivering. “I asked you to watch him, Mother!” The anger returned tenfold as he stormed over to Michael. How could his mother have left Michael unattended like that? Wasn’t she the least bit concerned about her grandchild?

Wrapping Michael up in all the blankets on the bed, Jason carried the cocoon he had made of his mate over to the fireplace. Then, sinking down to the floorboards, Jason tenderly embraced Michael and willed him to heal. “You’ll be okay soon, my Michael,” he said with fake cheerfulness. Very carefully, he pulled the expressionless mask off of Michael’s head, partially fearing what he might see. However, even unconscious, Michael looked like a beautiful angel. Such pale skin, such long eyelashes. He might only have been sleeping if it had not been for the tears that were leaking from behind his closed eyelids. But why was Michael crying? “You’re safe now,” he reassured his beloved mate. “Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

_“Do you remember, Jason? Do you remember when Mommy died?”_

“I’m not a little boy anymore, Mother,” Jason reminded her in embarrassment.

“ _But you do remember?”_

That was something that he would never forget. The scene of witnessing his mother being beheaded in front of his very eyes was something that had left him damaged for a very long time. In the beginning, he hadn’t known how to come back from a loss like that. Aside from the killings and basic survival instincts, there hadn’t been much else in his life for years afterwards.

“I remember,” Jason replied with undisguised bitterness.

“ _What a shame that your pretty little doll will have to go through the same healing process. A pitiful shame, indeed.”_

“ _What?!”_ Jason felt all his anger dissipate in a wave of cold dread. He would never wish for Michael to endure such pain and suffering. For Michael to watch him die... Such an experience would surely break his loyal mate.

“ _You had best clean up before he awakens. You’re an eyesore. But you were always so good at cleaning up. Such a good boy, my Jason.”_

It was then that Jason realized what had happened. The scream. Michael’s loss of control. The blood that Jason was covered with and the state his body was in. Jason had been dead when Michael came racing back to look for him. No. It had been worse than that. There was the damage to Jason’s skull, the hole in his chest, the flesh missing from his left arm... And then the man who had taken Jason’s machete. If Jason had been the one faced with an unstoppable enemy who refused to accept death, Jason would have dismembered the body to ensure that it stayed dead. Was that what those men had intended to do to Jason before Michael happened upon the grisly scene? What kind of psychological damage would that do to someone who was as emotionally fragile as Michael? And to be put through that hell while pregnant...?

“ _Clean yourself up first, Jason,”_ the faint voice repeated itself before Jason could ask for advice. “ _And after you’re done, clean the blood of those cowards off of my son-in-law and grandchild.”_


	19. Chapter 19

A frustrated thud jarred Michael awake, throwing him into an instant, all-encompassing panic. Where was he? Why was it so dark? What was that noise? Usually, Michael preferred moving around in low lit areas as it added to the mystique that he liked to project. Keeping his enemy in the dark meant having them at a disadvantage. Then again, he could just as easily function in the daytime if it served his purpose. However, Michael did not like playing the part of the sightless, vulnerable prey. And that was exactly how he currently felt. He could not gain his bearings, he could see nothing, and his brain functions were slowed by an invisible fog.

Another few thuds hit a nearby wall, which caused the entire structure to shake - and Michael to tense up with fear. A disbelieving grunt of anger soon followed. After that, it sounded like a bundle of wires were being ripped free from the wall. What was going on outside?

The air surrounding Michael smelled familiar, as did the smoke emanating from the particular combination of kindling burning in the nearby fireplace. In fact, the bed that Michael was lying on also felt familiar in a well worn sort of way. Was Michael back at the cabin? Why? How? Who had brought him back and for what purpose?

Instinctively, Michael shoved his hand under the pillow in search of his trusty kitchen knife. But there was nothing to be found. No knife. Still he persisted, desperately feeling around inside the blankets for something - _anything_ \- that he could use as a weapon. And that’s when it hit him - a series of horrible cramps in his lower abdomen that caused him to curl tighter into the fetal ball that he had woken up in.

 _My baby_!

These pains were completely different from the discomfort he had felt before. They were many times more unpleasant and hurt in an alien way. They hurt so badly that they caused Michael to silently moan and fight back tears. It couldn’t be normal to feel that amount of pain down there. What had been done to him while he was unconscious? What had been done to the baby? Pain that severe could only mean one thing.

 _She’s gone_!

As Michael’s eyes began to burn with fresh tears, he abruptly remembered Jason lying motionless on the butchering stump. How much time had passed since he’d blacked out? Had those men finished...?

An uncontrollable scream escaped Michael as he fought to keep the image out of his mind - the thought of Jason being hacked into a million pieces. How could Michael have been so weak and useless? The least he could have done was protect Jason’s body from further damage. There would be nothing left to bury now. No funeral to properly send his mate - the one and only person he had ever truly loved - off into the next world. Michael began to sob harshly, realizing that he was now all alone. Jason was gone, his baby was dead, and he himself would soon discover the limits of the human body when he was mercilessly tortured to death. It didn’t matter what he did or how much noise he made. He was dead either way.

Michael was so lost in his own personal torment that he didn’t hear the heavy footsteps come tearing down the hallway. But he did hear the bedroom door being thrown open, the familiar creak of it only adding to his misery. Still, he made no attempt to brace himself from the attack that he knew was coming. Nothing could make him hurt anymore than he was already hurting. Nor could any physical assault possibly add to the level of suffering that he was already experiencing.

“Michael!”

The sound of that voice - that deep commanding voice that could have belonged to a humanoid bear - confused and upset Michael further. What trickery was this? To use Jason’s voice to try and deceive him...

“NO! No no no!” The very large man passing himself off as Jason dropped down onto the edge of the bed and pulled Michael back against him. He seized both of Michael’s wrists in one of his mighty paws to force Michael to remain still. Then, before Michael could react, a hot cup containing a potent smelling concoction was pressed to his lips and tipped back just as he was about to scream again. Not expecting that form of attack, he half swallowed, half choked on the liquid that was poured down his throat. “Sorry, my poor fragile doll,” the imposter said with genuine regret. “You are not well. This will make you better.”

Michael fought against the man as he choked and sputtered on the bitter liquid, wrenching both his arms up and to his mouth so that he could bite down on his captor’s wrist. But he stopped in confusion when he saw nothing but bones reflected in the firelight. The flesh along that wrist had been peeled back and left to hang there grotesquely. As for the radius - the long thick bone running along the inside of the forearm - it was riddled with saw marks. Someone had attempted to dismantle this man in as slow and as painful a fashion as possible. Just like Jason...

“They took pieces of me. I couldn’t stop them,” the voice rumbled apologetically.

It couldn’t be! Jason was dead. Michael had seen him... The body, the blood, the weapons intended for dismemberment. He hadn’t been able to stop those men. And if he hadn’t been able to stop them, then that meant that nothing remained of Jason. This was _not_ Jason. “You’re not real!” Michael screamed, now struggling with everything that he had left. “You’re dead! They’re both _dead_!”

Instead of beating Michael for his tantrum, the man released him. But only for a moment. A second later, Michael was being enveloped in a suffocatingly tight embrace that put an end to any further movement. “Do you mean our baby?” The voice became gentle as a heavy hand began to pet Michael’s hair. “She is alive and well, my pretty little doll. But... she won’t be if you refuse to lie still and heal. Those _bastards_...,” Jason - for there was now no doubt in Michael’s mind that it was indeed Jason who was holding him - said angrily. “They hurt you. Your dark power protected our baby, but it let you be hurt.”

“ _Jason_?” It was almost too good to be true. Throughout Michael’s entire life he had only known sadness and suffering. Not once had he experienced anything good, and especially nothing that could have qualified as a miracle. But if Jason was still alive - or alive again - then it was by some form of miraculous intervention because no manner of creature could have survived what Jason had been put through.

“Your alpha is strong,” Jason murmured by Michael’s ear. “But he is also stupid. I should have been there to protect you, my Michael. The omega should always be protected by his alpha, especially when there is a little baby growing inside of him. I’m sorry, Michael. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry you had to fight so hard to protect yourself and our baby.”

Michael said nothing. He wasn’t even listening to what Jason was saying because he was too overwhelmed by everything that had happened. All he wanted was to see Jason’s kind face again, to be comforted by the man who had promised to unconditionally love him - forever. But when he shifted to look up into Jason’s face, he became frightened when he saw nothing but the vague outline of a burlap sack sitting above Jason’s bulky shoulders.

Before Michael could speak, Jason beat him to it. “You have to stay calm. The medicine I gave you will help with the pain and your sadness, but not completely. I can’t give you anything stronger because it might hurt our baby.”

“Take the sack off,” Michael pleaded, his voice breaking as he imagined all sorts of horrible things that might have been done to Jason’s face. His skull had been crushed, hadn’t it? Was that why Jason was keeping his head hidden? Or had those men done other heinous things to Jason - things that Michael had not been able to see from his vantage point?

“I love you, my Michael,” Jason said as he began to gently caress Michael’s face. “You will always be beautiful. And our baby will also be beautiful.”

“I can help you,” Michael insisted, trying to free one of his hands to get at that burlap sack. There was only one eyehole in it. Why would there be only one eyehole? Why would Jason not want to see with both his eyes? And what about his nose and mouth? “I have a very steady hand. I can—.”

“ _NO_!”

The pure ire with which Jason rejected Michael’s offer of medical aid shocked Michael something terrible. He had never heard Jason speak to him in that tone before. He felt a numbness settle over him as he unsuccessfully tried to process his mate’s behavior.

There was a moment of silence where all Jason did was breathe heavily by Michael’s ear. The sound was muffled and distorted through the thick material of the sack. It was a sound that was very disturbing and abnormal. Men should not go around wearing bags over their heads. Masks were one thing, but potato sacks were something entirely different.

“I would never hurt you,” Jason finally said in a somber tone. “If you see me, you will get upset. And I can’t let you get upset.”

“ _Upset_?!” Michael choked on his tears as he struggled against Jason. “You don’t know what it means to be upset! You promised that you would be able to handle those men on your own, but you lied. I had to come looking for you only to find your _corpse_ about to be butchered by our enemies! There is _nothing_ in life - or death - that can upset me more than that.”

“My pretty little doll,” Jason said in the gentlest of tones. “I’m very, _very_ sorry. You should not have seen something so terrible and frightening. I misjudged our enemies... I know that now. But they are all dead. Now the only person who matters is you.” After pausing for a moment, Jason continued with a delicacy that he was not known for. “You’re bleeding, Michael. You were kicked... and when I brought you home, you started to bleed. That’s why I need you to stay calm. Our baby is still alive, but she will not be if you become moody and angry... or if you continue to cry.”

“Bleeding, where?” Michael asked in bewilderment as he tried to look down at his own body in the poorly lit bedroom. “Why are all the lights off?” He tried to will himself to calm down because if the baby was still alive, the last thing he wanted was to lose her to a miscarriage.

“Everything is dark, Michael. All the wiring is dark. All the bulbs are black.”

What was that supposed to mean? How could all the bulbs be black? And what did it matter how dark the wiring was?

“How many times have I asked you why your middle name is Audrey?” Jason asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Too many,” Michael sniffed in annoyance. “I told you I don’t know why my biological parents chose that name for me. And why does it matter? I don’t want you calling me by that name.”

“I think I know why your dark power isn’t protecting you anymore.” Jason firmly took hold of Michael’s right wrist and guided his hand down into the blankets.

The first thing Michael realized was that he was not wearing any pants. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on several folded towels, and those towels were wet.

“Don’t be afraid,” Jason said reassuringly as he pressed Michael’s fingers in between his legs. “ _This_ is where our baby will come from. You were probably born with this but lost it when you were little. You power will fix and heal it.”

Michael gasped as his fingers skimmed an area of his body that had briefly intrigued him when he had entered his teens. Located a little further down from his regular sex organs, which he had expressed no interest in before mating with Jason, was a spot that had always been a bit tender and marked with a nearly imperceptible sliver of a line. But never in his limited imagination would he have guessed that the line was indicative of an imperfect stitching job. And now... that spot was not only tender but extremely sore. It was slightly open, like a punctured wound. It was also where the wetness was coming from. “Am I bleeding _here_?!” Michael could not tone down his hysterics as the implications of what his fingers had encountered struck him fast and hard. _Audrey_... Why had they left the name but erased everything else? Had they given Michael the name in order to curse him later on in life? Why was the dark power concentrating on recreating that buried and forgotten genitalia? What the hell was Michael supposed to do with a vagina?! _What kind of a freak did they turn me into?!_

“Shhh, my beautiful mate.” Jason soothingly caressed Michael’s face, seemingly not at all disturbed by what he had discovered. “This changes nothing between us. I will love you no matter what.”

“How can you...?” Michael couldn’t even get the words out he was so distraught.

“Before I was worried about where the baby would come from. Now I am not. But the bleeding is not normal. It’s because you’re hurt.”

Yes, Michael was still in pain. And that pain appeared to be directly linked with the abnormal bleeding between his legs. Tentatively, Michael brushed his fingers over that delicate, partially formed flesh again. The brief contact caused him to shiver and clench his teeth in response to the foreign sensation. Was it pain or was it pleasure? It was still too early to tell. Now he understood why the dark power had abandoned him during his time of need. The energy required to undo a surgery he had been forced to endure when he was only an infant had to be nothing short of phenomenal. Although Michael was unfamiliar with such procedures, he could imagine that altering the physical state of flesh and blood required an incredibly high level of black magic. Had those powers been within him all along? Was Jason the one who had awakened them?

“Good Michael,” Jason praised as he released him and stood up. “The medicine is working.”

Was it? Michael supposed that it had to be because he no longer had the energy to shed another tear. Of course Jason would know what herbal concoction to give him to dull both his pain and his senses. Jason was far too knowledgeable when it came to healing potions or debilitating poisons. “Where are you going?” Michael did not want to be left alone. Not even for a few minutes. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Jason again.

“We have to move while it is still dark outside.”

“Move?”

“We will have the advantage in the dark. If more men come...”

“Jason, where are we moving to?” They couldn’t just up and move! This was their home. It was also the first and only place Michael had ever felt safe and at peace. Why were they abandoning it? They weren’t cowardly packing up and moving out just because a group of mercenaries hired by Smith’s Grove had caught them off guard, were they? The next time they would be prepared. The next time... There could be no next time. They had barely survived this most recent attack. The excruciating pain Michael was in was enough to incapacitate him. And Jason... Michael still had no idea what had been done to his mate or what was wrong with him. Because there was something _off_ about Jason - something that Michael could sense but not interpret. “Is it because of the lights? I just used my powers to turn them off. They can be fixed, can’t they?”

“No, Michael. You used your powers to blacken all the wiring. It can’t be fixed, but that isn’t why we are moving. They know where we live now. We can’t be here when they come back. _You_ can’t be here when they come back. The next time they will kill you or our baby. Or both of you.”

“So we run and hide for eight months?” Michael asked in disbelief.

“Seven months,” Jason corrected him. “You’re almost two months pregnant. And no, we will not be hiding for seven months.” He hooked two fingers under Michael’s chin to force him to make eye contact. The look in that one bloodied eye hidden inside that potato sack was enough to chill Michael to the bone. “After you have healed, we are going to get revenge for what those men did to us today. We are going to attack Smith’s Grove, find out what they did to you, and chop up every person there who wants to hurt you.”

“I thought that I knew what they’d done to me,” Michael said miserably as he watched Jason moving about the room, quickly gathering up any essentials that they would need for their journey. But their journey to where? Did Jason even have a place in mind?

“Did you?” Jason asked gruffly. “You never told me this.” He began to separate their clothing into two piles - one for winter and the other for spring and summer. It was obvious which pile was going to be left behind.

“I wasn’t sure. I suspected that they wanted me to get pregnant so that they could take the baby. I was constantly being given injections... I just thought...” Shaking his head to fight off a wave of dizziness, Michael tried to regain his train of thought. “But that no longer makes any sense, not after those men clearly expressed the desire to kill our baby. Their motives in tracking me down were to _sterilize_ me...”

Jason’s head whipped around and his shoulders hunched forward aggressively in response to the word _sterilize_. “Those animals dare use such a foul word against my mate?!” He came storming back over to Michael and wrapped his burly arms around him tightly. “They are murderers - all of them! Trying to hurt you... trying to kill our little baby... I won’t—.” He broke off suddenly to glance over Michael’s shoulder. “I did, but the bleeding won’t stop.”

Michael felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle as Jason addressed an unseen presence behind him. “Jason, who are you talking to?”

“Those are for women, Mother. They wouldn’t be good for—. Yes... there are plenty...”

Michael twisted around to survey the area behind the bed. Even in the darkness he could tell there was nobody there. And yet... there was.

“I did my best with the towels. How can those _things_ be more absorbent? They’re too thin.” Not noticing how uneasy he was making Michael feel, Jason continued with his one-sided conversation. “Okay, I know you know best, Mother. I’ll get one for him.”

“Jason...” Michael shivered nervously as he sensed something hovering in the shadows behind him. While Jason did have the tendency to talk to himself and update his mother - or her head, to be more precise - on the daily events, he never spoke to her outside of the storage room. Although he missed his mother dearly, he was not at the point where he would experience hallucinations involving her person. At least he hadn’t been before he had been brutally attacked. Was he suffering from brain damage after what had been done to his skull? But even if that were the case, that wouldn’t explain the presence that was lingering far too close to Michael. A dark ominous presence that possessed no physical form. “Where are you going?” Michael asked in a panic when Jason pulled away from him and headed for the door.

“Mother says that I should get you a sanitary pad. She says that it will be more comfortable than the wet towels.”

Michael didn’t even bother to deny the elder Voorhees’ existence. _Something_ was in the room with them - something dark and morbid. “Don’t leave me alone,” he practically pleaded, still staring nervously at that spot where Jason kept directing his responses.

“You’re not alone, my Michael. Mother is here, too. She will watch over you.”

“ _Don’t leave me!_ ” Michael said more forcefully upon hearing that. He had not survived nearly being killed by a bunch of armed men to allow himself to be terrorized by an invisible spirit. If that’s what Mrs. Voorhees really was. Who was to say that it was even Jason’s mother that Jason was conversing with? From what Michael had heard back at the sanitarium, there were plenty of unhappy, disembodied spirits to go around nowadays. What the hell had Jason brought back with him?

“You can sense her, can’t you?” Jason hesitated, obviously not comfortable with Michael becoming hysterical again. “She says that you shouldn’t be afraid of her.” Despite having said that, Jason did not leave the room. “You’ve been through enough,” he said firmly as he returned to the bed. “I won’t leave you alone, I promise.” He slid both arms under Michael and carefully lifted him off of the bed. “You shouldn’t walk on your own,” he advised before Michael could protest.

But Michael did not protest. He knew how precious and vulnerable his unborn baby was, especially now that he was injured. Whatever internal bleeding he was suffering from, he was just grateful that it was not coming from the womb. However, his current physical state was jeopardizing the integrity of the womb and his unborn child. He didn’t need to be told to be careful because he was well aware of the danger both he himself and his baby were in. “How do you know that it’s your mother you’re talking to?” He kept his voice as low as possible, not knowing if the spirit was following them to the bathroom. “There is something nearby, but it could be anything - _anyone_.”

“It’s my mother,” Jason said firmly. “Not her head. Her spirit. She didn’t know about our baby, even though I told her - _her head_ \- the same day I found out you were pregnant.”

It was startling for Michael to hear Jason now referring to his mother’s remains as ‘her head’, as if it no longer held any meaning for him. “If she didn’t know, then she must not be your mother.”

“You don’t understand,” Jason sighed. “She didn’t know because she was never with me. She was trapped in that place - that _limbo_ \- since the day she was killed. Her head was just her head. Her spirit was never in it. When I died...” He hesitated when Michael cringed. “Our spirits got stuck together... or something. I saw her memories and she saw mine. That’s how she found out about you.”

Michael remained quiet until they were inside the bathroom. Then he began to moan in pain when Jason lay him down on the towel that was serving as their bath mat. It was too difficult to follow Jason’s story because it was obvious that Jason himself didn’t know how to interpret what he had experienced. “So you know it’s your mother because you saw her memories?”

“Yes. And because she keeps nagging at me to look after you better.”

That comment made Michael begin to doubt his earlier suspicions. “She is?”

“You don’t have to be scared of her, Michael. She _is_ my mother. She says that she wants her son-in-law and granddaughter to be safe and healthy. She always loved children.” Jason knelt down by their toiletry supplies and dug into the pile of feminine products that he had accumulated over the years. “Mother said that I should give you a sanitary pad.” He held up a handful of little sealed packets and growled in frustration. “Which one is the sanitary pad? The napkin or the tampon?”

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Michael recoiled away from the unfamiliar products. Aside from the shampoo, conditioner and body wash, everything in the _women’s_ pile usually got cast aside and ignored. He had spent nearly his entire life in a sanitarium populated by men. He knew nothing about the anatomy of women or what they used to maintain their feminine organs. Discovering that he was bleeding in such a delicate area was enough to terrify him, but not knowing what the napkin and tampon were for intensified that fear. How were they supposed to be used? Surely they weren’t meant to be inserted, were they?

“Oh... Mother says that napkins and pads are the same thing,” Jason casually said as he chose a packet at random and ripped it open.

Was Mrs. Voorhees still lurking nearby? Michael could still sense her, but barely.

“She’s staying out in the hallway because she doesn’t want to scare you,” Jason answered Michael’s unspoken question. He removed a clean pair of boxer briefs that Michael had left hanging on the shower rod to dry. Then he carefully peeled back the wrapper from the napkin and stuck it to the crotch of Michael’s underwear. “Here. Put these on.” Jason helped Michael slide them up his legs and secured them in place. “Better?”

“It feels weird.” Aside from the alien feeling of having that puffy cotton pad pressing against his skin, Michael was worried about his underwear. He didn’t have that many to begin with. If the pad ripped a hole in the crotch when they were removed, he would become most unhappy. Perhaps the bleeding would stop so he wouldn’t have to—. No, it was not going to stop. Michael frowned when more bleeding was followed by more cramping. However, amazingly, he no longer felt uncomfortably wet.

“Do you want to try the tampon instead?” Jason thoughtfully asked.

“How is that any different?”

“Mother says that you stick it inside—.”

“ _No_!” Michael was still in denial about that developing part of his anatomy. There was no way in hell he was going to allow Jason to stick anything inside it.

“We will take all of these with us to our new home. And food. And clothing. But you will have to dress extra warm because it’s snowing outside.”

“It is?” Michael brightened at the thought of snow. He hadn’t seen much of it the previous year while he had been hiding out inside abandoned - or commandeered - houses on the outskirts of Haddonfield. He had only ventured outside to scavenge for food or when he got sick of exercising indoors. The first few months out on his own had been particularly harsh because of the lavish manhunt that the authorities had provided for him. He had seen very little snow and gotten very little fresh air throughout that first winter.

“And we have a long way to go.”

“Where are we going?” Michael watched Jason shoving all their toiletries into one of those potato sacks that he kept beside the sink. It was fine to use one of those burlap sacks to transport food and supplies around in, but it was simply not normal to stick it over a grown man’s head. As sick and worried as Michael felt, he didn’t dare touch the sack covering Jason’s head for fear of incurring his alpha’s wrath. Jason had always had a bad temper, but there was now an element to it that felt unhinged. Michael did not want to be snapped at twice for his disobedience so he kept his hands to himself.

“A cabin far north of here. Nobody lives there - not anymore.”

“I don’t remember seeing any cabins north of here. At least not in your territory.” Michael shifted uncomfortably and grimaced when more sharp pains lanced through his abdomen. The frigid air inside the bathroom added to his discomfort, causing him to shiver uncontrollably and press his hands between his legs in the attempt to keep the cold away. That part of himself - that _new_ part - appeared to be extra sensitive to the cold, among other things.

“It isn’t in my territory. That’s why we’re going there.” Jason crouched down to Michael again and moved Michael’s hands aside. He then pressed his own hand firmly in between Michael’s legs. His large, slightly battered hand, was warm and reassuring. Although it did feel more than a little odd for Jason to be touching him in such a way. “Does it hurt?” Jason asked in concern.

“The cramps aren’t stopping,” Michael complained. “Neither is the bleeding.” He supposed that he ought to be grateful that his dark power had created a resolution to the internal bleeding. Otherwise, his body, as well as his unborn child, would have succumbed to multiple organ failure or died of a seizure.

“No,” Jason said impatiently. “Does it hurt _here_?” He pressed his hand in tighter, almost curiously, to gauge Michael’s reaction.

Michael gasped as the warmth and pressure from Jason’s hand caused him to feel something that he had never experienced in that location before. “I don’t think so...” The way Jason was gripping him was a lot more possessive and commanding than usual, but his alpha’s touch was in no way painful or threatening.

“I won’t hurt you,” Jason said softly as he experimentally rubbed one of his fingers over Michael through the thin material of the boxer briefs. “I just want to know what it feels like.” He kept the exploration brief, satisfied when he’d outlined the general shape of Michael’s developing genitalia. “I know I seem meaner and angrier than before,” he stated gruffly as he placed his hand gently over Michael’s abdomen next. “I don’t know why... but I would never hurt you,” he vowed emotionally. “I could never hurt my pretty little doll.”

“I believe you.” Michael swallowed hard and moaned with pain when Jason pressed his hand in tighter.

“You need more medicine.” Jason withdrew his hand and carefully scooped Michael up off of the cold bathroom floor again. “We need to travel all night and morning to reach that cabin. It will be extra hard on you in this condition.”

The fact that Jason didn’t directly ask him if he were capable of making the journey did not escape Michael. He was not being given a choice because there was no choice to make. If they didn’t relocate to a safer ‘den’, they would be slaughtered in the next attack. “So you’re shifting your territory to the north?” Wild animals were always migrating from one area to the next, adjusting their territory as they went along. Michael guessed that it wasn’t so strange for Jason to do the same thing. Losing the home that they were both so fond of was quite demoralizing and depressing, but it wouldn’t hurt as much as losing each other.

“No,” Jason responded coldly. “I’m making my territory bigger.”

Bigger? Just how much was Jason intending on expanding his territory, and what did that mean for the surrounding inhabitants? Michael was almost too afraid to ask.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Merry Christmas and best wishes for a Happy New Year!!!** ⛄️🎄 Thank you very much to everyone who took the time to leave kudos or a comment. It makes me incredibly happy to know that people are actually enjoying this fic and are interested in reading more. 😍

Nearly everything was black on a night when the moon was so tiny and distant. If it hadn’t been for the continuously falling snow and the reflected moonlight, Jason might have found himself slowly feeling his way along the treacherous woodsy path. It wasn’t because he was unaccustomed to moving around in the dark, but because he needed to be extra cautious with the precious bundle that he was carrying in his arms. He couldn’t afford to slip on the wet snow and jostle Michael unnecessarily. The slightest movements hurt his mate, adding to the discomfort of the frigid cold that Michael had never been very good at handling in the first place.

“We’re almost there,” Jason announced for no good reason other than to get Michael’s attention. He didn’t need his mother to tell him that it was imperative that he keep his mate awake and alert. If Michael were to pass out from blood loss or lose the battle to the nausea he was fighting, all would be lost. Michael’s body would begin to shut down if he lost consciousness, and vomiting out in the cold in the middle of the night would destroy what little strength Jason’s fragile little doll had left.

“Are we?” Those two short words seemed to be all Michael was capable of saying. He had his face pressed in as close to Jason’s chest as possible, his mitten encased hands gripping the folds of Jason’s coat extra tight. Jason had tucked a blanket around his mate as an added layer of protection against the deathly cold air, but Michael was still shivering and tended to moan whenever a sharp gust of wind blew through it.

 _Why do you have to be so sensitive?_ Jason thought in irritation. He barely caught himself in time before he voiced that sentiment out loud. How could he think such a thing? What the hell was wrong with him? Michael was injured and suffering. None of this was Michael’s fault. His beloved mate needed to be taken care of and treated with the utmost gentleness, not scorned for being an inconvenient burden.

“Almost,” Jason lied for the fourth or fifth time. He kept telling Michael they were nearly there whenever he suspected that his mate was on the verge of passing out. Had Michael been his usual clearheaded self, he would have moodily accused Jason of not being truthful with him. And he would have been right.

“ _Take a deep breath and let it out, Jason. You still have a long way to go.”_

“I don’t need you telling me what to do, Mother,” Jason grumbled. His mother had disappeared for over an hour of their journey, gone to who knows where, and the only thing she could think of doing upon her return was preaching. Well, Jason had no use for people telling him what to do and how to think. He was doing just fine on his own. He had hammered together a sled and connected it to a harness that he knotted around his shoulders, sternum and waist. And on that sled he had carefully packed all their essentials, including the rolled up bear rug, the pieces of the attractive crib that Michael was nearly done with, food, clothing, Michael’s teddy bear that had somehow wound up under the bed, the remains of Mrs. Voorhees, and plenty of weapons. Although the load weighed substantially more than any normal man would have been capable of pulling - and that was in addition to however much Michael weighed - Jason trudged through the calf-high wet snow at a steady pace without voicing any complaints. It didn’t matter that part of the harness was digging into the exposed bones of his chest, or that carrying Michael in front of him like that threw him off balance. Jason would keep going despite the deterioration of his own body. He would do anything and _everything_ in his power to ensure that nobody ever hurt Michael again. He would carry Michael to that abandoned cabin and keep him safe, like he should have done from the beginning. He needed no help or advice from anyone.

“ _Watch your temper,_ ” Mrs. Voorhees warned as she took on a physical form next to Jason. She was just as Jason remembered her - a petite but somewhat stocky blond with a boyish perm and a stern disposition. And she was still dressed in the old-fashioned blue sweater and dark bell bottoms that she had been wearing at the time of her murder. “ _Don’t go scaring your mate or my grandchild_.”

“I’m not scaring anyone,” Jason seethed. Unfortunately, he did not miss the low sound that Michael made in response to his sudden outburst. For some reason it made him think of a frightened animal that was expecting to be torn apart.

“ _You’re scaring them both_ ,” Mrs. Voorhees snapped, her tone becoming harsh and reprimanding. _“I raised you better than this. There’s nothing worse than a man who invokes fear in his own household.”_

“I’m _not_ —!” Jason clamped his mouth shut when he felt Michael tense up in his arms. Yes, he was scaring him. That was not the type of man - the type of mate and father - that Jason wanted to become. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to speak calmly, he apologized for his inexcusable behavior. “Sorry. There’s too much snow. It’s making me angry.” But it wasn’t the snow. It could have been a clear day in summer and Jason would have still felt angry.

“ _Hurts_...” Michael whimpered, pressing both hands between his legs again.

Hugging Michael closer, Jason pushed himself a bit faster through the heavy wet snow. The sled bumped and skidded behind him but seemed to have less trouble moving forward than Jason himself. There was far too much sinking, lifting and pushing off going on with Jason’s legs. Had the snow been light and powdery, instead of heavy and compact, they might have achieved a faster traveling speed. Thankfully it was still snowing heavily so any tracks they left behind were immediately filled in by the next onslaught of wintry nastiness. Nobody would be following them through this blizzard. The only downside to their current weather conditions was the toll it was taking on Michael’s weakened body. “Almost, Michael. Almost...” There would be no healing until Michael could lie down and rest. And he could do neither in the middle of a blizzard. Even if he bled through the extra thick sanitary pad that Jason had given him before departing, they would not be stopping to change it. Exposing Michael to the elements would increase the risk of causing him more pain and suffering. And more pain and suffering would ultimately lead to death.

“Why is it packing together... like that?” Michael asked as Jason’s boots scrunched down into a new mound of snow that was now knee deep.

“ _Think before you speak_ ,” Mrs. Voorhees advised. She came closer to observe Michael’s pale face in the illumination of the moonlight. _“He is not doing well so watch your tone with him.”_

Jason glanced down at his mother, for once grateful that she had interrupted him before he could open his mouth. He had been about to make some sarcastic comment about how even children knew the way snow reacted when weight was placed on it. Fortunately, he managed to recall how Michael had spent most of his life caged indoors. There wouldn’t have been any opportunities for Michael to experiment with the snow from within his locked room at the sanitarium. And a good majority of Michael’s childhood memories were lost to him, meaning that he couldn’t remember anything about the snow even if he had played in it before being committed. The previous year - before Jason had met his pretty little doll - Michael had been in hiding, only looking out at the snow from inside his chosen sanctuary. That meant that all this was new to Michael and Jason had to treat it as such.

“This is wet snow,” Jason said in a controlled tone. “It sticks together and gets heavy.”

“So...” Michael paused to catch his breath, heavy white puffs of air escaping him as he struggled with the pain he was in. “It’s good for making snowmen?”

It was fairly easy for Jason to picture Michael playing in the snow. His mate could be very mischievous and playful when he wanted to be. The topic of snowmen would also make a nice distraction for Michael until Jason could think of something else to talk about. “I can make you a giant snowman when we get to our new cabin. He will have arms and eyes, and maybe a nose. We can put one of the guns into his hand—.”

“ _No guns. Keep his mind off of the violence and danger,_ ” Mrs. Voorhees sagely warned. _“A mother should not have to worry about the safety of her child.”_

“You’re right, Mother. No guns.” Jason gazed down at the angelic bundle in his arms and smiled. It hurt his face. The jagged cut running along his left cheek made it impossible for that side of his face to move. Several of his facial muscles had been severed during the attack, making his face quite gruesome to look at. And that was in addition to his brow bone being bashed in on the left side. One of the men had struck Jason in the face with the butt of a rifle, nearly flattening the overly prominent bone, as well as damaging his left eye in the process. It was black and purple, swollen to hell, and temporarily sealed shut with dried blood. It had only stopped bleeding a couple of hours ago, so it was a long way off from healing or looking remotely human again. The back of his skull, on the other hand, looked downright grotesque. He had barely managed to stitch the pieces back together with a long piece of sterilized wire. Who knew how that was going to heal, or even _if_ it would heal. While it was true that Michael’s stitching technique would have been neater and more precise, Jason doubted that his mate could have gotten the work done without breaking down into tears again. He knew he had been right to put the sack over his head in order to spare Michael anymore distress.

“I want to make... my own... snowman,” Michael wheezed, finding it uncomfortable to talk with the air being so bitterly cold.

“You mean snow _pumpkin_?” Jason teased. He wouldn’t mind having their new home surrounded by snow pumpkins if it meant keeping Michael happy and entertained.

“Snowman,” Michael insisted as he looked up at Jason with those beautiful blue eyes of his. It was just too bad that they were filled with pain, fear and uncertainty. “But... he can have a pumpkin.”

“Of course he can.”

The soft crunching sound of snow had Jason whipping his head to the right. Before his brain could register what was happening, he was shifting Michael’s entire weight onto his left arm and reaching into his coat pocket with his freed hand.

“ _Jason, no!_ ”

Too late. The blade went sailing through the air a split second before Mrs. Voorhees realized what Jason was up to. It flew far and true, striking down the enemy at nearly 180 feet away. Jason watched with his one good eye as his knife embedded itself in the neck of a young deer, tragically sentencing it to a wretched and drawn out death. It was too far away for Jason to go after to complete the kill. That also meant that it would not be taken home for its meat or hide. Even if it had been closer, there was no room on the sled and Michael would not be able to tolerate the smell of blood and rotting flesh in his condition. Jason had just killed an animal unnecessarily. An innocent, harmless creature that had posed no threat to them.

“ _It is done. Keep moving._ ”

“But—.”

“ _It is best Michael does not discover what you have done. Keep moving_.”

So Jason kept moving, but he did not forget. He knew he had done something unforgivable. He had murdered one of the little creatures that he was supposed to be watching over. It was one thing to sacrifice them for meat but quite another to kill without justification or purpose. What was wrong with him? Ever since he had come back from the dead, he had been constantly irritated, angry and itching to kill. Before there had been rules regarding what he killed, where, and when. But now there seemed to be no ‘off’ switch. Without his mother to keep him in line, or his fear of frightening Michael, Jason might have stomped through the woods slashing down everything in sight. His thirst for blood was insatiable. His need for vengeance so desperate that he didn’t care what it cost him to get it.

“Jason?”

“What is it, my Michael?” Jason asked in the gentlest of tones.

“What was that?”

Not much escaped Michael, not even when he was injured and in pain. “It’s gone now,” Jason replied rather ambiguously. He didn’t want to lie to his mate, nor did he want to tell the truth. Michael would know something was the matter if he discovered that Jason was slaughtering animals without provocation. What would make it even worse was the fact that Michael was fond of the young spotted deer - the ones that still wobbled around on unsteady legs and were forever getting into trouble. Michael seemed to like the naughty animals best. Perhaps because they had so much in common.

“ _You had best hurry_.”

This time, Jason did not snap back at his mother or demand that she remain silent. He was beginning to learn that everything she said held meaning. She was helping Jason to remain focused when he could not do so on his own. Looking down at Michael again, Jason’s heart nearly stopped when he noticed that his beloved mate’s eyes were closed.

“Michael! We’re almost there! Don’t go to sleep!” Increasing his pace, Jason forced himself onward and further north as the sun began to come up. He kept looking down and nudging Michael, coaxing him to keep his eyes open a little longer.

After nearly an hour of wading through the stubborn wet snow in the middle of that awful snowstorm, Jason finally dragged himself towards the shape of a wooden two-storey log cabin that was visible from the unmarked path that they were on. Nestled in amongst rows and rows of towering trees was a structure that was a little larger, and twice as high, as the cabin Jason had built. It had a slanted roof, a generously sized porch, and a small balcony attached to the main bedroom facing the west on the second floor. Everything was covered in layers of snow, making the building indecipherable to the human eye. It was only because Jason knew what to look for that he was able to find their new home in its camouflaged state. “As soon as we get inside, I’ll warm you up in front of the fireplace,” he frantically promised Michael.

“ _A hot bath is safer. Direct heat is dangerous for frostbitten skin._ ”

“Okay, Mother.” Then, to Michael, Jason said, “There’s a bathtub in the bedroom, Michael. It’s big and clean. And you can look out the window while you soak.”

At the front door, Jason unfastened the harness and left the sled where it was. Stomping up onto the porch, he kicked the snow-laden welcome mat aside and carefully stooped down to retrieve the key that had been hiding underneath it.

Once inside the cabin, Jason flicked on the lights and carried Michael up the long winding stairs to the second floor. He would worry about all the snow and sludge that he had dragged in later. First he needed to take care of Michael and get the cabin back up and running. How long had it been since the gas or electricity had been used? Turning left at the stair landing, Jason rushed into the large bedroom and turned on the overhead light.

“Wow,” Michael breathed softly. His eyes were open again and he was taking in their surroundings in amazement. Jason had never been inside the cabin before so it was also his first time seeing the enormous bedroom. There was a large queen sized bed on the right side of the room, complete with fancy sheets, multiple blankets, and a rustic patterned comforter with matching pillows on top. On the far side of the room was a large, multi-panel window half covered with dark drapes made of a heavy fabric. In the opposite corner of the room was a large antique bathtub sitting on a section of tiles and surrounded by unlit candles. Behind it was a sink, a mirror, and a rack of pristine white towels. Just inside the doorway to the left was a stone fireplace with a wide hearth for displaying objects or sitting on. Aside from looking very cozy and aesthetically pleasing, it was apparently attached to a proper chimney. They wouldn’t need to open the window for ventilation anymore while they had a fire going.

“Do you like it?” Jason asked hopefully. He carried Michael over to the bathtub and immediately opened up the hot water faucet - wide. It would take a while for the water to heat up, and that was provided that none of the pipes burst in the process. How long had it been since the water had been run in the cabin? Four months? Maybe five? When Jason gazed down into Michael’s face, expecting to be met with a look of sheer delight, he was dismayed to find his mate frowning. No, Michael was doing more than that. He was pressing his lips tightly together to prevent himself from showing any emotion, which only resulted in him appearing more emotional than normal. Michael hated the cabin. Jason could tell just by watching those soft lips quivering and those blue eyes rebelliously cursing their surroundings that Michael was not happy. “It won’t take me long to get the fire started,” he promised, although he felt truly confused by Michael’s reaction to their new home. Hadn’t Michael disliked Jason’s cabin from the start? Wasn’t this professionally constructed and artfully decorated home more to the pretty little doll’s liking?

“I hate it.”

Jason sank down onto the tiles with his legs stretched out and Michael possessively embraced on his lap. Even though he felt more powerful than ever before, hearing the loathing in his mate’s voice sapped him of all of his remaining energy. “Why?” He demanded to know. The bedroom alone was more than spacious enough to while away their time in. It would be warm soon, and they wouldn’t need to traipse around inside with their boots anymore because there were plush rugs everywhere. The howling wind sounded dull and muffled from the inside, meaning that the structure was well insulated. It was also generously furnished judging from what Jason had seen on the way in. What on earth was there to hate?

“You didn’t make it,” Michael replied simply, his voice breaking a little before he set his features into a harsh glare that Jason had never witnessed before.

“Michael...” Jason sighed, looking past Michael to the faucet that continued to spray cold water into that giant bathtub on legs. Of all the things that he had expected Michael to complain about, being given a higher standard of living hadn’t been one of them. He had thought that he understood his moody omega so well, but apparently he did not. He had never imagined that Michael would become so sentimental about the home that they lived in just because Jason had been the one to build it. Evidently, there were still many things that Jason needed to learn about Michael. “Before you came to live with me, I moved many times. And every time, my home got bigger and better. This new cabin is bigger and better.”

Michael said nothing to that. He just hunched over with his hands between his legs and moaned.

“It looks like it’s hot now.” Jason lifted Michael off of him, setting his mate down on the carpeted side of the room, and got up to fill the bathtub. First he rinsed it out, then he dropped in the bath plug. Sparing Michael a quick glance to make sure that he hadn’t passed out, Jason stomped over to the fireplace and lit the kindling, dropping it on top of the well stocked firewood that was already piled up inside. “Will you be okay for a few minutes? I need to get our stuff.”

“ _I’ll watch him_.” Mrs. Voorhees appeared in the doorway with a wide grin on her face. “ _This will make a nice home for my grandchild_.”

Jason accepted his mother’s offer to watch over Michael but hesitated before leaving the room. “You aren’t going to disappear again, are you?”

“ _I’m sorry about the last time. It takes some concentration for me to stay in the one place, but I think that I’m getting the hang of it._ ”

“Good. Call me if he starts to sleep... or if the bathtub overflows.”

Jason rushed back outside to retrieve their belongings. He piled all of their food on top of the dining room table, dumped most of their supplies haphazardly inside the front door, and then lugged the bear rug, a bunch of toiletries, and Sauin the teddy bear up to the bedroom.

“Thanks, Mother. I will take care of him now.” As much as Jason loved his mother, he hoped that he wouldn’t have to tell her to respect his privacy while he was alone with Michael. Nothing would give him more trauma than to have her intruding on them during a time of intimacy.

“ _Do you need anything else?_ ”

“Not in the bedroom,” Jason replied meaningfully.

 _“I may be dead, but I’m not dense, Jason,_ ” Mrs. Voorhees muttered. “ _I’ll see you in the morning._ ” And then she was gone, no doubt to inspect the premises for potential safety breaches or anything that might be dangerous for Michael or the baby. She was a good mother. Always had been, always would be.

The bathtub was nearly full, so Jason shut off the faucet and knelt down to Michael. His mate was shivering badly and in terrible pain. There were many things that needed to be done to improve Michael’s condition, the first being getting him warmed up. “Just lie still and let me get your clothes off.” Jason tugged the woolly hat off of Michael’s head first, releasing those thick locks of flattened brown hair. Next he removed the scarf, the coat, and the mittens. It took him a few tries to get the sweater and undershirt off because Michael’s hands kept returning to his crotch. Just how bad had the bleeding become? Jason got his answer when he eased Michael’s pants down those long legs. Everything was saturated in blood. He clenched his teeth hard to prevent himself from reacting to the sight of his mate so horribly injured. Because if he let on how bad it looked, Michael would become more terrified than he already was. “Into the bathtub you go,” he said with forced cheerfulness as he lifted Michael up and slowly lowered him into the tolerably hot water.

A gasp of pain escaped Michael, followed by more shivering. Then, gradually, he settled into the bathtub, sinking in to just below his ears and giving a sigh of relief.

Jason also exhaled with relief. Their long journey was over and Michael now had a safe and comfortable place where he could recover. Wiping his bloody hands off on one of the nearby towels, Jason stood up and surveyed the room. He needed to make it look welcoming to Michael, and that meant giving it a quick makeover.

While Michael soaked in the bathtub, Jason moved about the room snatching things off of the bedside tables, the walls, and the floor. He removed some ornaments that looked like souvenirs from a trip abroad, a rather personal looking painting of a man and a woman from the wall, books, notebooks, and a dead cell phone from inside one of the drawers. Dumping everything out into the hallway, he came back in and placed Sauin on a pillow and their toiletries over by the sink. Finally, he removed the stylish area rug from in front of the fireplace and replaced it with the old bear rug.

“You can engrave whatever you want into the walls,” Jason suggested as he returned to Michael. “You can turn the whole cabin into Halloween if you want.” Sitting down by the bathtub, he began to stroke Michael’s damp hair. “I miss our home, too, Michael. But this is our home now. Our little baby will have lots of room to play. And you will be safe here while I go hunting. No one will find us here.” When Michael remained silent, Jason sympathetically caressed his pale cheek. “How much does it hurt?”

“Too much.”

“ _There is medicine in the kitchen cupboard.”_

“ _Mother_!” Jason growled in the direction of the doorway. He did not want his mother to see Michael naked, especially with how sensitive his mate was about his newly altered anatomy. Jason himself had yet to fully grasp the way Michael’s genitalia was evolving. Soon Michael’s vagina would be fully developed, and then what? Was it going to be used solely for the purpose of giving birth, or would Jason be free to touch it as he did with every other part of his mate’s body? He couldn’t deny that he was more than a little intrigued by this new development in their sexual relationship.

“ _I’m in the hallway. I just overheard you talking. There is a sealed bottle of painkillers in the cupboard to the right of the kitchen sink. Give him two_.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As usual, Michael did not react to what he considered to be a one-sided conversation. He was still unable to see or hear Jason’s mother, although he was very much aware of her presence. The main thing was that he was no longer freaking out and panicking whenever he sensed Mrs. Voorhees nearby. It would take some time before Jason’s mother and his mate established a mutual form of communication, and that wouldn’t happen until Michael actually began to feel comfortable around the spiritual entity.

Temporarily leaving Michael alone, Jason went down to the kitchen to retrieve the medicine his mother had indicated, along with a glass of water. Upon returning, he gave Michael two capsules and watched him eagerly swallow them down. The pain Michael was in had to be unbearable for him to ingest any form of medicine without asking questions about it first. There were many things about Michael’s stay in the sanitarium that were unclear to Jason, but the abusive way that drugs had been administered was not one of them. As a result of being medicated against his will, sometimes to the point of not being able to get out of bed, Michael had zero trust in even herbal remedies. That was why Jason had been disguising the herbs for treating Michael’s nausea as food flavoring. Michael wouldn’t have taken them otherwise.

“Thank you,” Michael said gratefully to Jason after he had thirstily emptied the glass of water and handed it back.

“I would do anything for you, my pretty little doll,” Jason promised. Leaning over the bathtub, he enveloped his slender mate in his muscular arms. “My Michael... my pretty omega... I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too, Jason.” Michael murmured sleepily as he allowed himself to let his guard down for the first time since the attack.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Moving day?” Michael asked lightly in an effort to cover up the constant pain he was in.

“Christmas.” To that there was no response nor had Jason expected to get one. Christmas had never been kind to his naughty doll, not inside the sanitarium or anywhere else. While Jason had fond memories of celebrating the holiday with his mother as a child, Michael had none. The only holiday that held any meaning for Michael was Halloween, but even then Jason could not understand the appeal. Christmas was far more important than Halloween. It was a time when families spent time together and people were kind to each other. It was a time for turkey dinners, presents underneath the Christmas tree, and chocolates wrapped in gold foil. No mate of Jason’s was going to spend Christmas in pain and misery. And his child would certainly not grow up having never experienced the joy and love of Christmas Day. “Merry Christmas, my beautiful Michael.” Reaching into the hot water that was now murky with blood, Jason took hold of Michael’s left hand with his own. With his right hand, he withdrew something that he had been keeping in his pocket for many weeks - something rare and valuable. Dropping his right hand into the water, he slipped a shiny platinum wedding band encrusted with tiny black diamonds onto Michael’s ring finger. “From today you are Michael Voorhees,” he informed Michael with pride and confidence. “Our little girl will also be a Voorhees, just like my mother. I promise I will take better care of you, my Michael. I will be a good and kind husband to you.”

Michael looked down at the sparkling ring on his finger and then twisted around to gaze up at Jason in shock. “What is this?” His face, although still drawn with pain, was also innocent of any accusation. He genuinely had no idea how to interpret Jason’s words and actions. Did Michael even understand what it meant to marry someone?

“It’s a wedding band,” Jason answered patiently. He didn’t bother mentioning where it had come from because Michael would have no trouble figuring that out on his own. “You give it to someone when you marry them. That’s what I’m doing, Michael, marrying you. I would take you to a church and do it the _proper_ way, like Mother taught me, but we’re not welcome in such a place.” Since the moment he had learned of Michael’s pregnancy, Jason had wanted to marry him. It was the right thing to do since Michael was going to be the mother of his child. And what better time to do it than at Christmas? Despite his original plans being ruined by the sadistic attack on Michael, Jason had no intention of abandoning his desire to marry his beloved omega. While the absence of a Christmas tree and delicious turkey feast would be quite a shame, Jason would not let the day end without wedding Michael. He wanted Michael in every way possible and marriage would make their union official on every level.

“Jason... you have always taken good care of me,” Michael said softly as he lowered his gaze back to the wedding band. “What happened wasn’t your fault...”

Did Michael honestly believe that Jason wanted to marry him just to make him feel better? Or to apologize for how he had failed to protect him? Was Michael really that clueless about the significance of marriage? Jason couldn’t help but love Michael all the more for his guileless nature.“It _was_ my fault,” Jason said in a harsh tone that did not invite contradiction. “But that isn’t why I’m marrying you. I’m marrying you because I love you. I planned to marry you on Christmas and that is what I am going to do. We will be a family. A happy family.” He wrapped his arms around Michael again, wishing that he could press his face against his beloved’s soft skin or kiss those pouting lips that he adored so much. If it weren’t for the sack covering his head... But it was covering his head, and that was where it had to stay for the time being. “You will be my beautiful little doll - forever.”

Upon hearing that, Michael bestowed Jason with one of his rare smiles. It was a shy smile, as Michael seemed not to know how to smile any other way, but it was radiant with pure love and happiness. “Michael Voorhees...,” Michael pronounced experimentally.

“Michael _Audrey_ Voorhees,” Jason gently corrected him. One of the reasons why Michael was very special was linked to that middle name. It was the reason why Jason had been able to impregnate him, and it was also why Michael would be able to safely give birth in the coming summer. Whether Michael liked the name or not, Jason would not omit it. “I’m coming in,” Jason said impulsively as he began to shirk off his clothes. He wanted to feel Michael pressed up against him to reassure himself that his mate was going to be okay.

“Without the sack,” Michael said firmly, still mesmerized by the fancy ring on his finger. He had probably never owned or worn a piece of jewelry before, which was why he looked so shocked and overwhelmed by the gift.

“Little omegas don’t give orders,” Jason growled teasingly by Michael’s ear. Dropping his pants and boxers, he kicked them off onto the tiles, along with his boots and socks. Then he climbed into the bathtub, squeezing in behind Michael. Still, he kept the sack over his head. As soon as he settled himself at the end of the bathtub, he had his arms full with a very happy Michael. His mate affectionately nuzzled his chest and hugged him tightly around his torso. “You like your Christmas present?” Jason asked in delight.

“I love you,” Michael replied. “My new husband,” he added, making Jason aware of just how happy he was with their new relationship. But he became incredibly tense when his hand brushed over Jason’s chest and encountered bone instead of flesh and muscle. “What...?” Becoming terribly pale, he tried to turn his head to see the damage. Jason wouldn’t let him.

With one rough palm pressed to Michael’s cheek, Jason gently nudged him back into the water. “It will heal,” he said confidently. “Until it does, you don’t need to see it.” Before Michael could protest, Jason ended the argument before it could begin. “You will get upset and then you won’t heal. If you don’t heal, our baby will not grow healthy inside of you.”

For a moment, Michael’s posture seemed to indicate a possible rebellion. However, he revealed just how exhausted he was when he lay back against Jason without saying another word.

“Good Michael,” Jason praised as he began to caress his mate’s cheek. Reaching behind him, he picked up the bar of soap that he’d discarded onto the tiled floor. Very gently, he set to work bathing his pretty omega. He ran the soap up and down Michael’s body several times until he was sure his fussy mate was clean enough. Then he used the soap on himself, scrubbing much harder to remove the layers of blood and filth. Once he was done, he pulled the plug on the bath, emptied the water completely, and then refilled it with fresh water. After that, he washed and rinsed Michael’s thick hair, moving closer afterwards to enjoy just how wonderful his pretty little doll smelled. “This new bath is nice and big,” he commented as he stretched his muscular legs out on either side of Michael. He liked how Michael fit perfectly against him, not minding how cramped the bathtub was with two men lounging inside of it. Anyway, Michael was small and delicate in comparison to Jason’s intimidating stature, which meant that he didn’t need as much space to feel comfortable. “We could never do this at home - I mean, our _old_ home.”

“You tried,” Michael said humorously.

“Now I won’t have to replace those broken tiles,” Jason said cheerfully. Turning back to look over his shoulder, he peered out the bedroom window to see what was going on outside. All he saw were white clumps of snow blowing every which way in the wind. It was difficult to determine the time of day with the surrounding scenery being constantly erased by the mighty blizzard. Jason wondered what he would find in and around the cabin when he explored it later on.

In the past three decades, Jason had only been this far north a handful of times. The first time had been to set the boundaries of his territory and see what lay beyond them. The second time he had been curious to know what kind of people would embrace a reclusive lifestyle in such a remote area. He had discovered that the people in question were an antisocial couple living out their old age as far away from civilization as possible. On the rare occasions that Jason had seen the pair out and about, they had not exchanged so much as a word with each other. The man had always taken off into the woods for a long walk or to do some bird-watching, and the woman had busied herself with womanly hobbies like knitting or puttering about the house. Jason supposed that they had occasionally gone into town for supplies, but only for things like detergent and medicine. They had always been fairly self-sufficient, not unlike Jason, and even had a goat out back that they kept for its milk and fur. Was the goat still around? Jason supposed he would find out one way or the other when he went to check the yard and shed after the snowstorm had subsided.

It was practically impossible for anyone living near Crystal Lake not to have heard of Jason Voorhees - the guardian and executioner of the land - so the elderly couple had been quite aware of his existence. They had consciously stayed out of Jason’s territory, just as Jason had minded his business and done the same, except for those odd times when he had intruded on their land for a reason. Like that time when he had chased a wild pig straight up to their doorstep. Although nobody had come out to see what all the racket was about when Jason slit the pig’s throat, he was sure that they had been watching him from inside the cabin. They had been a smart couple, those two.

Two years ago the old woman had passed away. Jason was made aware of that fact by the grievous howling of the old man that had gone on for days. Afterwards, the old man had stopped wandering out into the woods in favor of staying indoors for weeks upon end. It wasn’t until the old man dragged himself into Jason’s territory one day that Jason was forced to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. The one and only day the old man chose to trespass on Jason’s land was the day that he dropped dead. Figuring that it was the neighborly thing to do, Jason had lugged the old man’s body back to the cabin and buried it beside that of the old woman - down by the small stream on the east side. That had been back in the summer and several months before Jason had run into Michael. Jason never would have thought that he would be now living in their home with his precious mate and their tiny unborn baby.

Was their baby okay? Would Michael be okay?

Jason looked down at the unconscious form in his arms. Michael had finally given into his weary state and passed out. Even asleep Michael looked beautiful with his porcelain white skin and angelic features. What would he look like when he was three months pregnant? How about four? Jason’s hand slid down to Michael’s abdomen where he began to soothingly stroke his mate. There was a lot less blood in the water now, and the painkillers seemed to have taken affect. A good deal of bed rest, frequent nourishing meals, and lots of loving attention would get Michael back on his feet in no time. It had taken Jason a number of years before he had stumbled upon this cabin due to its inconvenient positioning. It would take the evil minions of Smith’s Grove just as long, or perhaps longer, to find them. That meant that Michael could freely venture outside when he was well enough without having to worry about being attacked. When the baby was born, Jason could leave both mother and child to play out back or by the stream while he went hunting. They would have a happy, peaceful life in their new home.

“Michael Audrey Voorhees,” Jason said quietly to himself. He liked the sound of that. Michael was his to keep forever.


	21. Chapter 21

Puberty. For some it was a right of passage into adulthood. For Michael... it was a troubling mystery. One day everything seemed to be as consistent as normal, and the next morning he was waking up with his voice a half octave lower and hair growing in places he wished it wouldn’t. Perhaps it might not have come as such a shock if someone had actually taken the time to explain hormones and growth spurts to him. But nobody had. And so Michael was left to wonder about the changes occurring to his body all alone. It wasn’t like he could ask any of his fellow ‘inmates’ about what surprises he should expect his maturing body to baffle him with next. Nor would he get any sympathy or support from Dr. Loomis, should the callous old man realize what Michael was going through.

Fourteen. Was that too young for a boy to begin developing into a man? Or was it too old? Was the voice change and curly brown hair in his pubic region all he had to worry about? Would anyone else notice the changes that he was going through? He hoped not.

From what Michael understood, possessing pubic hair in an institution that was full of creepy men with varying degrees of personal hygiene was more of a curse than a blessing. At least according to the pamphlet he had come across a while back on pubic lice. Thankfully he was still being segregated from the rest of the general population - for the most part - but one could never be too careful. The voice change would continue to go unmentioned because he only spoke to himself in the privacy of his room at night. But what about his height? Was it his imagination or had he grown an inch or two in the past week alone?

“Here, Michael. Happy Halloween.” Reginald, the sixty-something year old man with a penchant for scribbling headless figures on his paper napkins, eagerly approached Michael and set his uneaten pudding cup down at Michael’s place setting.

Now this was odd.

The patients at Smith’s Grove were allowed to interact with each other in any of the communal areas, including the cafeteria, provided that they did so without any violent intentions. However, it was very rare for any of the older men to seek out Michael’s company. For one thing, they had been dissuaded from getting too close to Michael when he had first been admitted. There had been concerns voiced about Michael’s young age and small size, so he was always kept far apart from the others. Another matter was Michael’s mute and unresponsive nature. He wouldn’t even acknowledge people in his personal space, so he had gained the reputation of being a hollow zombie. No good for communication, bullying, or anything else. So why was this man giving him his dessert? As Michael was in the habit of sitting by himself in the lone corner of the cafeteria by the window, there was nobody else at the table to either explain or intervene in this one-sided conversation.

“You like pudding, don’t you? I see you smiling when you eat it. You must like it.” Reginald rubbed his wrinkled hands together and leaned over Michael expectantly.

That was not true. Michael would not be so foolish as to allow himself to express any emotions when outside the safety of his room. While it was true that he did enjoy the desserts more than the regular slops that were dished out to him three times a day, whether he wanted them or not, he never smiled at dessert time. Sure, the dessert was more palatable than everything else, but not by much. It would take a lot more than some mass produced pudding in a single serving plastic cup to make him smile.

“Look what I’ve got, Michael. Pumpkin pie! My Ma made it for me.” Oscar, the resident psychopath, shoved Reginald’s pudding aside and dropped a squashed piece of pumpkin pie wrapped in plastic wrap in its place.

Michael didn’t know who was worse, Oscar the maniac who had choked his roommate to death on a pair of socks, or Reginald the decapitator. What he did know was that he wasn’t going to touch the pudding that had already been opened and exposed to Reginald’s filthy hands and heavy breathing. And he had no desire to sample anything that a relative of Oscar’s had made. Still, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be treated with a bit of interest and kindness, especially with Halloween being a few days away. Someone had begun to spread a rumor - that Michael was powerless to admit or deny - that Michael loved Halloween. Was that where all this goodwill was coming from? Maybe these two men were trying to be thoughtful during Michael’s favorite holiday. Seeing as how Michael was in absolutely no position to choose his own friends - and had none to speak of - he didn’t think that he could afford to feel too prejudiced towards whatever came along. He _was_ starved for attention, after all.

“I was here first, you inbred piece of scum!” Reginald made a grab for Oscar’s throat, only to be punched in the nose for his troubles.

“Fuck you, you headless horseman of Apocalypse!” Oscar shouted back hysterically. “You fuck with my Ma’s pie and you fuck with my entire clan!”

Okay, so Michael was probably better off without the attention. There was nothing he could do but sit still in his seat and hope that nobody struck him in the melee. He was still really small in comparison to the others, and Oscar’s fists were really large. He also had an irrational fear - born of nightmares caused by the constant screams and howling that Smith’s Grove was known for - of having his head twisted off by Reginald’s murderous decapitating skills.

“I’m going to turn your ugly mug into a trophy!” Reginald threatened as the two men grappled with each other at the end of the dining table, much to the delight of their fellow diners.

“That’s enough! Break it up before I stun you so hard you’ll wake up without your teeth!” One of the male nurses warned as he and a few of his coworkers separated the two men. “What is wrong with you fuckers?” He shouted at Reginald and Oscar who were practically foaming at the mouth with insanity. “Is _this_ what you want?” He recklessly aimed his stun gun in Michael’s direction.

Having a weapon pointed at him was a lot harder to ignore than a pudding cup, but Michael did exactly that. He kept his eyes downcast and on his tray of uneaten - and unidentifiable - dinner, and refused to even twitch as the nurse activated the stun gun for effect. It made a loud electric noise that startled Michael, as well as emitted flashing arcs on the end of the device. Michael imagined that he could smell the very air between them being singed by that lethal weapon.

“ _This_ is jailbait,” the nurse went on in a tone used to taunt the patients and get them riled up. “You can’t have this even if you try to pay for it with your stupid pudding cups and your - what the _fuck_ is this?” He picked up Oscar’s wrapped pie and held it gingerly between two fingers. “Don’t tell me your momma is baking again.” He clucked his tongue rudely at Oscar before hurling the pie into the garbage bin in the corner of the room. Then, turning to face the crowd of onlookers who were practically drooling over the prospect of someone being murdered in the cafeteria, he set down some new rules. “None of you nutcases are to try talking to this boy again. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand shit and has a blank sheet for a personality. He’s still a kid and is off-limits. Got it? So don’t go giving him your cheap-ass presents and expect him to bend over in return for them. It’s _not_ going to happen.”

Michael watched Oscar and Reginald being dragged off to their separate rooms out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t been able to understand some of the things the nurse had said, and he wasn’t sure of the reason for banning anyone from giving him presents in the future. What was wrong with giving him presents? He didn’t want them and wouldn’t accept them, but surely there was nothing wrong with being offered something now and then. Was he being punished for the fight that had broken out between the old man and the weirdo who was obsessed with his mother? Michael had done nothing to cause that fight. And to be called _jailbait_? What did that even mean? The nurse _was_ punishing him, wasn’t he? Because depriving Michael of any human interaction seemed unjust and spiteful. But if that was the case, then why was Michael unable to shake the eerie suspicion that he had just been saved from a sinister fate by the trigger-happy nurse?

A few hours later and Michael was still trying to decipher the incident in the cafeteria when Dr. Loomis and the sadistic nurse who was forever pricking Michael with needles conducted an informal meeting in his room. It was nighttime by then and well past the curfew that every patient was forced to abide by. The lights were down low and it was quiet outside in the hallways. There were no nurses marching back and forth, nor were there any belligerent patients lurking about in the doorways. There was no activity whatsoever.

“See, he’s as docile as ever,” the woman proudly announced five or so minutes after she had injected Michael with something so strong that it left him dizzily staring up at the ceiling in confusion.

“But he’s still affecting the other patients,” Loomis muttered in irritation. “It couldn’t be more obvious. First Trevor and Christopher, and now Oscar and Reginald. Only this time was much worse.”

The nurse backed into the shadows of the room and out of hearing range of Michael, or so she thought. Nobody was truly out of Michael’s hearing range unless he wished them to be.

“Well, if you’d take a good look at him, perhaps you’d be able to see the appeal,” she said with amusement.

“I’d prefer not to,” Loomis said scornfully.

Ignoring Loomis’ foul attitude, the nurse shared an observation that had obviously been on her mind for a while. “Something similar happened last year around this time.”

“Halloween,” Loomis responded as if they were on the same wavelength.

“That’s right. Halloween.”

“You assured me that this wouldn’t happen again.”

“No, I assured you that he wouldn’t be receptive to their advances. There’s a difference.”

“Then increase the dosage.”

“You want me to kill him?” The nurse asked in mock humor.

“I wouldn’t care either way,” Loomis replied coldly. “This _thing_ is a danger so long as it is left alive.”

“That’s where we must agree to disagree. There is still much to be studied and learned. If it will make you less anxious, we can keep him in his room until Halloween is over.”

 _No! Anything but that!_ Halloween was the only thing that Michael had to live for. It was the one day of the year that gave him joy and hope for whatever freedom might lie in his future. He couldn’t have that taken away from him! He needed to watch the others decorating the rec room with pumpkins, bats and witches. He needed to hear the Halloween themed music on the radio and watch the prerecorded family-friendly Halloween cartoons that a member of staff brought in on All Hallow’s Eve. And he couldn’t stand the idea of not staring for hours upon end at the Jack O’lantern that the cook carved every year and left sitting on top of the bookcase next to the TV. That Jack O’lantern was all that he had to live for. The Halloween candy was all that he wanted to eat. They couldn’t take that away from them. They just couldn’t!

“It _will_ make me less anxious,” Loomis readily agreed. “Keep it in the room until the day after Halloween. I guarantee you that there will be no more fights if you keep it locked away until then.”

Why was Michael always an ‘it’ where Loomis was concerned? And what right did either Loomis or this nurse have to keep Michael sequestered in his room while everyone else was free to move about as they pleased? Michael was the model patient with no history of violent behavior, or behavior of any kind for that matter. They were not justified in keeping him locked away during his favorite holiday.

“That’s what we’ll do then. There will be no more presents and no more fights.”

“See to it that there aren’t.”

Suddenly, everything after Loomis’ words began to blur and become jumbled. The drugs always had that effect... They stretched out images until there were only elongated colors left... They wrapped all sounds up in a choppy sea of gibberish... But worse of all, they removed Michael from the conscious world...

The first thing Michael did when he regained consciousness was to wrap his hands around the throat of the man lying next to him. He was going to choke the life out of whomever he had woken up beside and figure out who they were later. Only, he couldn’t do it. His fingers spasmed and stopped short of crushing the man’s windpipe. Just as quickly as he had grabbed for the man, he released him.

“Jason,” Michael cried out tearfully, fearing that he had somehow managed to hurt his husband while in the throes of his nightmare.

In response, Jason embraced Michael tighter and rumbled sleepily to him. “You can’t hurt me. I’m used to your nightmares by now. But I don’t want you hurting yourself. Lie back down and relax.”

“What happened to our bath? Where am I?”

“You passed out in the bath many hours ago. I dried you off and put you to bed,” Jason replied in a reasonable tone. “I told you I would take care of you. I won’t break my promise.”

It was dark inside the room but very warm. And although the surface they were sleeping on wasn’t at all hard, it wasn’t as soft as Michael imagined a queen sized mattress would be. “We’re on the bed?” He asked in a sort of daze. There was a muted fuzzy glow coming from what might have been the foot of the bed. It was also where the warmth was coming from.

“No. You need warmth. We’re on the bear rug by the fireplace. Try not to kick the comforter too close. It might catch on fire.”

Lying still, Michael curled up tighter against Jason. He clutched at Jason so hard that his arms began to hurt, but he didn’t care. He needed to reassure himself that he was now fully awake and that Jason was alive and well. Or as well as one could hope under the circumstances because there was still a sack over his alpha’s head.

“How is the pain?”

“Dull.” But not gone. The pain in his abdomen was not as bad as it had been before. Perhaps the bleeding had tapered off..., but Michael could not be sure because his entire body felt weak and numb. And cold. Moving would undoubtedly aggravate his injuries again. He still had no idea what sort of internal injuries he had or how bad they were. All he knew was that his baby was unharmed. How he knew was as much a mystery to him as where his dark power had come from and how it had managed to alter him physically.

“What was your nightmare about this time?” The sack pressed closer to Michael’s neck as Jason began to eagerly sniff at him. Jason loved the way Michael smelled just as much as Michael craved Jason’s wild musky scent. Even with his head covered, Jason couldn’t resist aggressively nuzzling Michael to get his attention.

“Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Jason sounded confused. “But you love Halloween. Why would you have a nightmare about something you love?”

Sighing heavily with the weight of the traumatic memories lingering in his mind, Michael clarified what he meant. “When I was fourteen, Doctor Loomis and that psychotic nurse kept me locked in my room until Halloween was over.”

“The same nurse who hurt you here?” Jason stroked his hand up and down Michael’s left arm where the faint needle marks remained.

Michael simply nodded and tried not to react to what had to be phantom pains caused by a psychosomatic disorder.

“Why did they lock you in your room? You told me you pretended to be a zombie inside that place. Did they catch you doing something...?”

“No. I didn’t do anything,” Michael insisted dejectedly. “They were angry because some of the men were giving me presents and then getting into fights. But I didn’t say or do anything to instigate those altercations.”

For a moment, Jason was silent. But when he spoke again, his voice was angry and full of suspicion. “There were men fighting over you when you were only fourteen? And after they gave you presents?”

“I swear to you, Jason, I never did anything to solicit their attention.” Was Jason angry because he thought that Michael may have fooled around with one of those men? Surely he had to know Michael better than that by now. Before Jason, there had been no one. There had been zero interest and a total lack of comprehension when it came to acts of a sexual nature. “There was no one before you, Jason. I never even looked at another man,” he continued, desperate to appease his husband’s temper before it flared up again.

“I would never accuse you of that,” Jason said gruffly as he embraced Michael tighter. “I know you were innocent when I found you. But I didn’t know that you had gone into heat before. I thought your first time was with me.”

“What?” Completely caught off guard by Jason’s interpretation of events, Michael fumbled for a response. “That was my first time. I never experienced those symptoms before—.”

“You had men giving you presents and fighting over you. Before Halloween,” Jason interrupted. “When a female goes into heat, the males of her species will try to get her attention. Sometimes with presents. Sometimes with fancy displays. And when two males want the same female, they will fight. That is what those men were doing, Michael, fighting for the right to claim you. Because you were in heat.”

Michael was too stunned to reply. He had never understood why the men had suddenly begun to show an interest in him around Halloween. But now, listening to Jason clearly explain it to him, it all began to make sense.

“When did this start?” Jason demanded to know.

“I think when I was thirteen... right before Halloween. But the men were not as aggressive as the following year...”

“What about when you were fifteen?”

“That’s the strange thing. Nothing unusual happened around that Halloween or the one after.”

“That Loomis and that evil nurse...,” Jason growled savagely, his entire body growing tense with anger. “It is a sin to mess with nature. If you are supposed to go into heat, you should continue to go into heat. With animals this happens during the same season or same time every year. But you, my pretty little doll, are special. You go into heat before Halloween. If you stopped going into heat all those years, it was because those two butchers did something to you to make it stop. That is why your heat this year was so powerful and dangerous. You can’t turn something like that off and expect it to return to normal.”

“Why would I continue to go into heat if I wasn’t attracted to any of those repulsive men?” Michael couldn’t help but feel offended by what Jason was insinuating. “What does it matter why I stopped going into heat - if that’s really what was happening? Would you have preferred it if I had been forced to mate with one of those old perverts?”

“You don’t understand, Michael. Going into heat is not something dirty. And it doesn’t mean you lose control of your body. It just means that you’re ready to mate. You still get to decide who you mate with, _if_ you want to mate at all. Those _monsters_ in that sanitarium damaged your heat cycle. That was what the needles were for - to stop you from attracting those men. And when you stopped getting those needles...” Jason clenched his hands into fists in front of Michael’s face, then opened them wide, fingers spread, to gesture an explosion.

Michael felt simultaneously violated and awed. His stomach churned at the thought of someone manipulating his hormones to the point where they had nearly killed him. But he was also impressed by Jason’s very logical explanation on nature and heat cycles. Most people mistakenly believed that the Crystal Lake killer was nothing more than a dumb ogre who only knew how to take life. However, on the contrary, Jason was very knowledgeable and wise regarding the preservation of life and how animals ought to coexist with one another. While he had a simplistic way of speaking and expressed himself through his actions more than his words, Jason was anything but a fool.

“That makes a lot of sense... too much sense,” Michael said in disgust as he awkwardly shifted to alleviate a sudden discomfort in his left side. The pain was back and his vision seemed to be acting up along with it. Even though his eyes were closed, he could still see brief flashes of light in several colors. There were reds, blues, greens, and bright oranges. Trying not to become too alarmed at the colorful onslaught of lights, Michael kept his mind on Jason. “Where did you learn all this, Jason? How do you know these things?”

Jason shrugged and went back to snuggling with him. “Some things my mother taught me. Other things I found out over the years. I had many years to watch and learn. Many, many years...,” he trailed off in a bit of a tired tone. After a minute or so, Jason began to stroke one of his fingers over Michael’s closed eyelids. “Why won’t you open your eyes?”

“Because I think I’m hallucinating. I keep seeing all these colorful lights...”

“There _are_ colorful lights,” Jason said in a more cheerful tone. “I found a Christmas tree in the basement. It came with lights.”

Michael abruptly opened his eyes and tilted his head upwards so that he could see past Jason’s broad shoulder and across the room. True enough, there was a tall Christmas tree all lit up with flashing lights in the corner of the room by the bed. It was much bigger than the skinny artificial tree the sanitarium used to put up in the rec room. Instead of tacky handmade ornaments with patient names scrawled all over them, this tree was decorated with shimmery gold tinsel, classic ornaments of various colors and shapes, and little characters like reindeer and elves. Next to the Halloween Jack O’lantern, this tree was the most beautiful thing that Michael had ever seen.

“I wanted to cut down a real tree for you... but I had no time,” Jason apologized. “You deserve a happy Christmas, my Michael.”

“What could be happier than being married to you on Christmas Day?” Michael asked in wonder. “I love the tree. It’s so... magical.” He looked down at his new wedding band and twisted it around on his finger to admire it. “This ring is beautiful, too.” The harmonic swirling patterns of vines and leaves engraved along the sides of the band were soothing to look at. But the sparkling black diamonds clustered around the center of the ring were nothing short of mesmerizing. The largest one was a tad grayer than the alternating small and tinier ones that wrapped around it. Regardless of their shade or size, they all sparkled equally as bright. It was hard to believe that something so lovely and valuable now belonged to him, just as he belonged to Jason. Nobody had ever given Michael anything nice before, but Jason was forever surprising him with both material and symbolic gifts.

“Do you want your Christmas dinner?”

“There’s Christmas dinner?” Although he still hurt all over - but more specifically in places that he could not name - and was absolutely starving, there was something that he wanted much more than food. He was almost too afraid to ask for it. But he had to try. Perhaps lying in front of the fireplace had given Jason some time to calm down and think rationally. “Before dinner... I want you to take off the sack,” he said firmly. He would not phrase it as a question so that Jason would not be able to refuse him outright. “Not being able to see your face is causing me a lot of stress. It’s making me very sad and unhappy.” Never before in his life had Michael been so honest with his feelings. He felt that the only way to get through to Jason was to hold nothing back. “The sack is also scaring me... I need to see your face... _Please_. I promise I won’t get upset.”

“Foolish omega,” Jason muttered in irritation. “I don’t want to make you feel stress. And I know you need to see the face of your alpha to feel reassured, but you _will_ get upset.” The one bloodshot hazel eye gave Michael a look of warning before Jason sat up and grabbed the ends of his temporary face covering. Hesitantly, he lifted the sack off of his head and dropped it onto the comforter behind him. He then fixed Michael with a one-eyed stare. “Can you still sleep beside me after you’ve seen this? It will make your nightmares worse.”

Despite having steeled himself against whatever horrors he assumed Jason was hiding with that sack, Michael nearly broke down at the sight of his beloved husband’s brutalized face. His imagination apparently hadn’t done the abuse Jason had endured justice. Jason’s entire face, neck and skull were covered in black and blue bruises, as if he had been repeatedly punched and kicked, or maybe even struck with a hammer. But what shocked Michael the most was that those bruises didn’t stand out as much as they should have because Jason’s entire skin tone was much darker and grayer than it had been before. It was so bloodless it looked lifeless. What was worse than Jason’s unhealthy pallor was the swollen bulge of dried blood that his left eye had become. There was what looked like a dent above that eye - a clear indication of damage to Jason’s facial structure - and a long jagged line of stitches running down the same side of his face. But perhaps the most frightening injury was Jason’s partially cracked skull. What on earth had Jason used to stitch it back together again? Was that wire even sanitary? Could it lead to an infection or lead poisoning?

Fighting back tears as he considered the risks and benefits of re-stitching Jason’s wounds properly, Michael thought of an even better question. _How is he still alive?_

“I won’t be offended if you cry,” Jason said stoically. “It’s probably better if you do it now and get it over with.”

“I’m not going to cry,” Michael stubbornly protested. Still, his hands were shaking as he gently skimmed the tips of his fingers over Jason’s nearly unrecognizable face. And it was impossible not to sound choked up over the sight that his brain refused to process. “Did you sterilize the needle before you stitched this up?” He lightly traced the poor stitching job covering Jason’s left cheek, wondering just how much nerve damage had been left behind by such a deep cut.

“I heated it up over a flame.” Jason took hold of Michael’s hands with his much bigger ones and squeezed reassuringly. “I’ve fixed myself up before, Michael. All this will heal. It might not be pretty, but it will still be me.”

Swallowing hard in the attempt to control his emotions, Michael stated a fact that Jason seemed to be overlooking. “You’ve been badly hurt before, but I don’t think that you’ve ever been truly dead. Or at least not missing... parts. In the bath, I felt at least two ribs that weren’t covered with flesh. But you don’t seem to be in any pain...”

“I’m not.” Reconsidering his words, Jason added, “Some parts of me feel _weird_ , but that’s about it. Maybe my ribs don’t need flesh.” Before Michael could say anything else, Jason hugged him loosely. “No more talk about bones and flesh. We’re going to have a romantic Christmas dinner in our new home. And then I’m going to spend the rest of the night touching and kissing you.”

Not trusting himself to say anything else lest he get more choked up, Michael remained quiet and let Jason have his way. It was good enough that Jason had removed the sack so that Michael wouldn’t have to feel like he was conversing with a headless entity. At least it should have been good enough. But it wasn’t. Although Michael felt slightly better now that he could see Jason’s face, inside he was screaming with anguish and outrage over what had been done to his proud alpha.

“No more thinking, Michael. You asked me to take the sack off, so I took it off.” After a brief pause, he added, “I wasn’t going to, but Mother scolded me and said I was being cruel to you. So off it came.”

And there was the other matter that Michael had yet to address - the wandering spirit that was Jason’s mother. Michael could sense her coming and going, but he could neither see nor communicate with her. So, needless to say, he still got spooked when he felt her lurking around. It was not a very comfortable situation because Michael usually preferred to be the one doing the spooking. Where was she now? She wasn’t in the bedroom. What else had she and Jason discussed while Michael had been unconscious?

Jason left Michael lying under the comforter and blankets while he retrieved some items from the fireplace. When he returned, he placed several cushions and the pillow behind Michael’s back, helping him to sit up. As it turned out, sitting up was not such a pleasant or welcome action as it caused Michael to feel weak and lightheaded. But before the sudden change in position resulted in him losing consciousness again, Jason wrapped one arm firmly around him and pulled him close.

“Take it slowly. You’ve lost too much blood.”

That was definitely something that Michael did not want to think about before dinner - blood loss. There had been a few moments during their long trek through the snow when Michael had worried that he might not make it. The pain had been excruciating and the bleeding torturous. What could be worse than the sensation of large amounts of blood passing through an unfamiliar organ that hadn’t previously existed? At least not to Michael’s knowledge. More than once Michael had feared that he might find pieces of his internal organs mixed in with the blood flow, which is why he had been so desperate to stop it altogether. “Am I still bleeding?” He didn’t really want to know but still felt it prudent to ask.

“It’s not as bad as before,” Jason replied in an obvious attempt to ease Michael’s mind. “But you need to eat. You’re too weak and pale.” He passed Michael the wooden bowl that he had filled to the brim with a hot stew. “This is the last of our beef. Maybe I can find us a nice turkey when it stops snowing.”

“You saved our dishes!” Michael exclaimed in surprise. He loved and appreciated everything that Jason had made for their previous home. The odd shape of the bowls in particular was something that made meal time a fun adventure. It would have been a shame if Jason had been forced to abandon them, or anything else that he had painstakingly crafted.

“I saved as much as I could. I hate round bowls and fat spoons.”

Michael waited until Jason had a bowl for himself before reluctantly dipping his spoon into the stew. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat it. It was just that his appetite, and his emotions in general, were suffering from the knowledge that Jason would never be the same. His mate was still caring and loving, but there was now a dangerous unpredictable aspect to him that might have had something to do with his recent bond with death.

“Michael, eat it,” Jason ordered as he clumsily maneuvered the spoon into his own bruised mouth.

The stew smelled too tempting and delicious to resist, so Michael gave in and hastily gulped down his portion, only pausing to chew the small chunks of beef that hadn’t melted along with the vegetables. When was the last time he had eaten? Over a day and a half ago? The last meal he remembered was a hot salmon soup loaded with vegetables. That had been for Christmas Eve breakfast, hadn’t it? “That was _so_ good,” he sighed as he passed his empty bowl back to Jason.

“Mother says that you have to eat more,” Jason said as he refilled Michael’s bowl from the pot that was sitting halfway inside the fireplace. “Our baby is hungry, too.” Placing the bowl back in Michael’s hands, Jason smiled stiffly at him. “You don’t have to worry about us running out of food. Mother found stuff in the kitchen. She said that it just needs to be heated up, but I don’t know how to use the microwave or the oven. But you do, don’t you?”

“I’ve used both before,” Michael said between mouthfuls of stew. He wasn’t too keen on finding out what the previous occupants of the house had left behind because he had grown accustomed to Jason’s rustic cooking. There was nothing more appetizing or emotionally uplifting than one of Jason’s stews. No two were ever the same, but they were always too good not to have seconds.

“Are you almost full?” Jason asked after he had ravenously finished off his third bowl of stew.

“Almost...”

Upon hearing that, Jason took Michael’s bowl away. “You have to leave room for dessert.” He took a long metallic rod with a hooked tip that was leaning up against the hearth and poked it into the fireplace. Out came a medium sized potato that was scorched black and gushing out steam from where it had been speared. Jason shook it off onto a small plate and sliced into it to reveal the bright orange flesh inside. It looked very moist and smelled sweet.

“What is it?” Michael asked in anticipation. He had never seen a potato that color before, if it was indeed a potato. He had also never had a potato for dessert.

“It’s a sweet potato. I found a couple of them growing on a sunny hill. They’re not in season now, so I got lucky.” After blowing on the sweet potato a few times, Jason passed the plate and the fork to Michael. “This is much better than cake.”

Feeling reenergized after the stew, and relieved to be able to see Jason’s face again, Michael dug into the sweet potato. The first forkful confused him because it was _that_ sweet. It wasn’t like a potato at all. If anything, it was more like a hearty pudding that was bursting with sugary warmth. Michael finished off the potato in half the time that it took him to eat the stew. He then sat there beaming up at Jason. His cheeks were flushed from the heat of his meal and his spirit felt reinvigorated by his husband’s kindness and thoughtful Christmas dinner. Jason might have been profoundly affected by his death, but he was still the sweet man whom Michael had fallen in love with. No amount of physical scarring would ever change that. “You’re right. It was much better than cake.” Knowing he was being greedy but not able to help himself, he asked, “How many more are there?”

“Only one. You can have it tomorrow. In the spring, we will plant more so you can eat them every day if you like.” Jason leaned closer and gently pressed his stiff lips up against Michael’s in a tender kiss. “I will make you happy here - in our new home - my Michael.”

“I’m already happy.” Michael kissed Jason back but was prevented from leaning in any closer by the soreness in his abdomen and a bit of a throbbing in the back of his head. At least he could go for a few minutes here and there without thinking about the bleeding or that new part of his anatomy. He still did not have the strength to think too deeply about either problem.

“Do you want to sit on the bed? You can see the Christmas tree better from over there.”

“Okay.”

Jason carried Michael over to the bed and rearranged the cushions and pillow behind him. Next he replaced the blankets and comforter on the bed and brought Michael a hot cup of herbal tea. Lately Jason was always giving Michael the same potent tea that was a bit on the bitter side. Michael never asked what was in it for fear of discovering weird ingredients that he normally wouldn’t have wanted to ingest. And, after Jason had forcefully poured that cup of medicine down his throat back at their old cabin, Michael was under the impression that he would not be allowed to refuse the tea even if it wasn’t to his liking.

“Are these new?” Michael lifted his arm up so that he could inspect the sleeve of the red, dark gray, and white tartan pajamas that he found himself dressed in.

“The old man who lived here was almost the same size as you. But he didn’t start out that way,” Jason said with undisguised humor. “He was like a stuffed turkey in the beginning. Living off the land put him in better shape.” Climbing into bed beside Michael, Jason took away the cup and placed it on the bedside table. He then wrapped both arms around Michael and hugged him close. Jason was still as solid and warm as ever, which helped to disperse the remainder of Michael’s fears. A corpse would not be so warm and affectionate. Perhaps Jason was reborn or undead, or whatever other term might be used for someone who had experienced such a horrendous ordeal. But he was no corpse. “There are lots of new clothes for you. And there’s a fluffy warm coat in the downstairs closet. It will look cute on you.” Jason nuzzled Michael’s neck with his injured face. “Or you will look cute in it.”

“You couldn’t find anything for yourself?” While Jason did not seem to mind the cold, Michael still thought that it would’ve been nice if his husband could find something other than a ripped t-shirt and shabby boxers to wear to bed.

“There might be something in the attic. I’ll look later. For now, I just want to hold you.” Jason’s hand pressed gently against Michael’s abdomen. “When do you think we can feel our baby moving?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s still too early...” Michael honestly had no idea one way or the other. The only useful fact he had on pregnancies was that they usually lasted around nine months. What the baby did inside the mother during those nine months was a complete mystery to him.

“Jason...?”

“What is it, my pretty little doll?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I like our new home.” Michael patted down the very lofty mattress that they were both comfortably seated on. It was more than wide enough for the two of them to lie side by side on, with bonus room for Jason to roll around on when he was feeling frisky. It was also very warm under the down comforter, with its coordinating colors of burgundy, clover green, and ecru. Spaced out on the comforter were dark animal shapes like big Buffalo and small birds, interspersed with tiny leaves and plants in repeating patterns. The two pillows had matching designs, while the additional cushions came in simple shades of taupe and cream. The bed alone was so relaxing to lie on and stylish that Michael felt his spirits perk up further.

“You like our new bed,” Jason teased as he began to pet Michael’s hair.

“And our new Christmas tree.” And the beautiful snowy view from their expansive bedroom window. It was either really late or terribly early because it was very dark outside. The storm seemed to have subsided during Michael’s extended rest as he could barely make out the high outline of snow-covered trees that surrounded their new house. The flashing Christmas tree by the window served as a rather large multidirectional flashlight that continuously illuminated the outdoor scenery. Michael couldn’t wait to venture into that snow to see what interesting things he might find on their new property - and to build his very first snowman. He wanted to share that new experience, among many others, with Jason. He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he twisted around to embrace Jason and impulsively kissed him on the lips, carefully stroking his fingers over his husband’s lopsided bald head. He was elated to finally be free of the men who had been hunting him. He was overjoyed to be living in such a gorgeous home with all the necessary amenities - and more. Their baby girl would grow up in a peaceful and loving atmosphere. Everything would be alright.

“Michael...”

Michael grasped Jason by his tough shoulders and rubbed his cheek up against the one that was free of stitches. He wanted to feel more of Jason’s warmth. He needed to surround himself with Jason’s primal scent.

“Michael,” Jason said in a more compassionate voice.

“I’m happy,” Michael reassured Jason, although the tears that sprang to his eyes had a bitter sting to them. He clung to Jason in desperation while still in denial of the way his body was trembling and the awful sobs that he could not keep quiet. He _was_ happy. Why shouldn’t he be happy? He had everything that he’d ever wanted. Didn’t he?

Jason’s arms enveloped Michael in a protective embrace, holding and supporting him as a tidal wave of sorrow threatened to destroy him. “It’s not okay,” Jason said in understanding and without any anger. “What was done to you... and to me... It’s not okay. You don’t have to pretend that it’s okay because it’s not.” He pushed his thick fingers into Michael’s hair and grasped it with just as much desperation as Michael was grabbing onto him. Then he nudged his battered face into Michael’s, moving in close to kiss away the tears streaming down Michael’s cheeks. “Let it out, Michael. You won’t lose me ever again. I promise.”

Being given permission to unravel was all it took to shatter what was left of Michael’s self control. He pushed up against Jason’s chest, grabbing for skin or muscles or whatever he could hold onto, and just sobbed. His distress and misery were compounded by the unstable hormones associated with his prenatal depression. He cried so hard he feared that he was embarrassing and making Jason uncomfortable. But when he felt that big bear of a man begin to twitch with emotion, just as a rogue tear from above splashed onto the tip of Michael’s nose, Michael knew that he was not alone in his suffering. Neither of them would ever forget what had been done to them. Nor would they ever forgive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst part is over - for now - so the next few chapters will be a lot more cheerful, focusing on Michael and Jason’s new life together. 😊

**Author's Note:**

> I **greatly appreciate** comments so long as they are related to this fic. Anything offensive or spam-like will be deleted.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding! 🎃


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